


As The Masks Crack

by PenelopeJadewing



Category: Naruto
Genre: Anbu Hatake Kakashi, Anbu Uchiha Itachi, Anbu Yamato | Tenzou, Anxiety Attacks, Assassins & Hitmen, Blood and Violence, Bromance, Comedy, Dark, Disturbing Themes, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Gen, Hatake Kakashi-centric, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Kid Uchiha Itachi, Mental Health Issues, Murder Mystery, Nightmares, One Shot Collection, Other, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, References to Depression, Uchiha Itachi-centric
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-10
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-05-05 01:24:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 36,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14606130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PenelopeJadewing/pseuds/PenelopeJadewing
Summary: Before there was Team 7... there was Team Ro. Called the best Konohagakure had to offer, but he knew what it really was: nothing more than an overrated asylum prep program. Vignettes of Team Ro during Kakashi's ANBU days. Multiple OCs, Kakashi-centric. Will address some dark themes including trauma, death, murder, drug abuse, alcoholism, and suicide.





	1. Uchiha In The ANBU

Uchiha Itachi rounded on his opponent, three gleaming kunai materializing in his hand as he raised it. He flung them with a deadly flick of his delicate wrist, and the ANBU operative made a hasty leap out of their path, backwards and to Itachi’s left. The three blade thumped harmlessly into the soft earth, amidst the dancing shadows cast by the stark afternoon sun through the trees. Then, in the larger ninja darted, close and personal, to deliver several swift blows with his bare hands, all of which Itachi dodged with seeming effortlessness. He was young, but he was no novice - everyone, even his own clan, considered him the greatest of his time. Bloody Sharingan blazing from behind his mask, Itachi caught the ANBU by the wrist and jerked him down to his level, nose to nose.

Within seconds, the ANBU dissolved into terrified shivering, sweat beading on his neck. Only then did Itachi release him, and step back. He blinked. The ANBU came back to awareness with a subtle jerk, breath short and rapid.

“You gave a good effort,” said the prodigy Uchiha, civil as he always was. “That was a good spar.”

“Itachi wins again,” Kakashi muttered to Tenzo.

Tenzo nodded. “Second one. He made Badger look like an Academy student, and now he’s nearly reduced Panther to tears.”

Never had he seen the ninjutsu master so out of sorts before. In the short years that Tenzo had been a member of this team under Kakashi’s tutelage, he thought he’d grown to know it’s many strengths and weaknesses quite well. But as the stripling Uchiha took on each member of Team Ro one-on-one, Tenzo found himself watching those strengths being turned to more weaknesses before his very eyes. Itachi did a miraculous job at taking someone’s skill and using it effectively against them. 

Kakashi nodded. “After that ridiculous display earlier, I can’t say they didn’t need it.”

Tenzo couldn’t disagree with that, but he also couldn’t forget how Itachi hadn’t flinched a muscle as shuriken and kunai, which could end his young life in a mere second should any hit their mark, flew inches past his head as he approached his new team on the green of the training grounds for the first time.

The team captain brandished and threw his own kunai, into the ground at the feet of the green-masked member among them. “Frog, you have a go.”

“My pleasure, Kakashi-taichou.” He cracked his knuckles, taking his sweet time doing it. “I’ve been waiting my turn.”

“Then by all means, have at it.”

As he leapt into the fray with great vigor, Tenzo let loose a heavy sigh. He stood at Kakashi’s side, which is where he could usually be found; the two had a bond, one Tenzo couldn’t rightly explain. It wasn’t as if anything special had passed between them - unless one counted trying to kill one another. But of all the members of the elite ANBU team, Kakashi was the one Tenzo knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that he could trust. Trust to have his back, and perhaps even to see him as the person he wanted to be.

Tenzo. Not some half-baked Shodai wannabe.

“What do you think of him?” Tenzo asked quietly, continuing their muttered conversation while absently watching as the spar progressed. “Itachi, I mean.”

“Hm…” Kakashi took a moment, hands in his pockets, to lean back and stare at the sky in thought. Clouds rolled by overhead like driftwood in a body of crisp, endless blue. “It’s hard to say anything now… He has potential.”

“As what, though?”

“Anything, really. That’s the trouble with guessing before we know anything.”

“A decent ANBU?”

“Certainly.”

Tenzo watched as the Uchiha in question swiped Frog’s feet out from under him and drove his small elbow into the older boy’s stomach, knocking the breath from him from both sides as he slammed into the ground below.

“…A double agent?”

Kakashi hesitated. “…That’s a possibility, I suppose.”

“He is an Uchiha first and foremost.”

“We don’t know that.”

Tenzo glanced toward his captain. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that for all intents and purposes, it appears that his loyalties are on the straight and narrow - solely with the Leaf. I’m not saying he couldn’t be something else, but I’m not going to start developing conspiracy theories until there’s a little more information to go on.”

He processed this a moment - Kakashi-senpai was right, after all, like he always tended to be - and then smirked behind his mask. “You mean you’ll be developing conspiracy theories later on?”

“Ha ha. Funny.”

Tenzo couldn’t resist a genuine chuckle of his own. That is until Frog shouted profanity to the clouds and stumbled from the sparring ring.

“All right, all right,” he growled, rubbing his elbow. Tenzo had missed what happened. “I get it. I won’t be underestimating you again…”

“Otter, you’re turn,” said Kakashi.

The spiky-haired blond nodded and didn’t hesitate to jump at Itachi, who didn’t look like he’d even broken a sweat yet. With duel clicks, Otter whipped out the hidden blades on his wrists and began swiping furiously at the small, raven-haired boy. Itachi danced and dodged with the skill of an experienced acrobat.

“He’s young…” Kakashi said, with a strange tone in his voice. Like a kind of melancholy fondness. “Younger than I was when I joined the ANBU.”

“How old were you?”

“Thirteen. Though…” The red and white wolf mask trained on Tenzo. “I suppose that’s nothing compared to being raised in the Foundation.”

Tenzo looked away from the somber face to watch Itachi come well on his way to taking down Otter, despite the latter employing his excellent taijutsu and Water style ninjutsu.

“No… Growing up as an automaton kinda makes you used to the idea of children being used as spies.”

“Automaton?”

“Don’t tell Lord Danzo I said that.”

That got a rare chuckle from the white-haired Hatake, and he finally turned away, relieving Tenzo of the weight of his heavy gaze. Despite wearing a mask, there was something that happened when Kakashi of the Sharingan looked at you. It was as if a deep sense of grief shot straight from his eyes to the soul of the person unfortunate enough to look him in the eye. The underlying pain was near palpable. It was something Tenzo doubted Kakashi even knew he was doing, but it was unsettling nonetheless.

So to hear him laugh was a valuable thing, few and far between.

“You’re not far off, honestly. To think he almost had me under his thumb a few years back… Then you showed up and reminded me that orders were one thing, but bonds were another.” Tenzo could almost hear Kakashi’s smile then. “I’m still grateful.”

“Uh… you’re welcome?”

“Sorry, that was kind of awkward, wasn’t it?”

“A little bit, yeah.”

“I concede!”

Both men glanced up to see Otter taking several steps back with his hands up, knives retracted. Itachi stood still, yet ready with kunai in hand in case the surrender turned out to be false.

“I concede,” the ANBU said, and then put a hand on his hip. “Nice job, kid. I don’t think I’ve ever crossed someone of your skill level before, let alone at your age.”  
And somehow, despite every member wearing their mask, Tenzo could tell that Otter earned himself some dirty looks for that quip. He held up his hands in concession to the negative responses, and simply retreated from the ring.

“Cat, I think it’s your turn,” said Kakashi, a smirk in his voice.

Tenzo took a moment to process that the captain was speaking to him. He was so used to the older teen calling him by name instead.

“Me?” He glanced over at Itachi, and tried not to seem too reluctant. “B-But Lizard-”

“I know.” Oh, Kakashi-senpai was definitely smirking under that porcelain shield. “But it’s you’re turn now.”

“Actually…”

The gentle voice startled everyone, and all turned to its source - the Uchiha at the center of the group.

Itachi stood straight, directly facing the captain. “If I may, taichou. I request to spar with you.”

A hushed ‘ooh’ went through the members of Team Ro, but Kakashi showed no reaction. Tenzo watched him closely, and had to wonder what was crossing his mind at that very moment. Was he surprised, or had he perhaps seen that coming? Kakashi-senpai often was more insightful than he let on… Would he accept the challenge, or stick to his original plan?

“Me, huh… All right.” Kakashi took a few easy steps forward, not even bothering to pull his hands from his pockets. “Don’t expect me to go easy on you, though.”

“I would prefer that you didn’t.” Itachi sheathed his kunai, brandishing no more weapons, and simply stood there with his hands at his sides.

Kakashi did the same, and for the longest moment, the two Sharingan wielders faced off in silence. Tenzo took a subconcious step back - who knew how big this spar would get?

The silence had only just grown eerie when Kakashi gave a low chuckle.

“Nicely done, using genjutsu right off the bat. But you’ll have to be a bit more convincing next time.” With that, the captain whipped out a kunai and dashed in.

Itachi withdrew his own weapons, a pair of kunai in each hand. With flicks of his wrists, he threw two at Kakashi, one after the other. Kakashi, likely using his Sharingan already due to his opponent, easily dodged them and didn’t even break pace.

Kunai clashed, showering sparks, fighting for a mere second before they pulled back and then clashed again. And again and again. Clang, clang, clang. Back and forth they went, one striking, the other deflecting in a flurry of vicious swipes. They moved with elegant, rhythmic fluidity, making battle look more like a dance, a dance of two masters in their element.  
Suddenly, as Tenzo paid closer attention, Itachi’s size didn’t matter. He more than made up for it in sheer skill. His raven ponytail weaved like a silk ribbon in his wake, he spun and twisted and leapt with the grace of a deer, the agility of a wildcat, and the accuracy of a viper.

And Kakashi-senpai was no pushover. His attacks were more solid, firm and confident, but not arrogant. He was quicker to offense and balanced with defense, and never took his eyes off his opponent. He moved like his chakra type - quick and powerful bursts of energy originating at his core and extending outward like whips.

In all appearances, they could have been on equal footing as opponents. 

The spar lasted much longer than all the previous ones, only further demonstrating the ridiculous gap in skill level between the two in the ring and those outside. This ANBU team was made up of the best in the Leaf, and yet Kakashi Hatake and Itachi Uchiha seemed to be on a level of their own.

Finally, Kakashi used a Water Style jutsu followed by the Chidori to incapacitate the young prodigy. It was a simple solution to end things quickly, and Tenzo honestly thought Itachi should have seen it coming.

But maybe he had, and had done nothing about it.

Whatever the case, the spar’s end saw Itachi lying on his back on the now-wet ground, chest heaving, hair and clothes soaked and steaming from the short burst of electricity he’d just absorbed. Kakashi sheathed his kunai and stuffed his hands back into his pockets again. He approached the boy, footsteps squelching in the flooded grass as the smell of soaked earth and steam enveloped them all.

“You’re better than I expected.” Tenzo recognized the smile in Kakashi’s voice. The latter offered the Uchiha a hand up. “Well done.”

Itachi took it gratefully, still a little out of breath, and stood shakily to his feet.

“I suppose that might’ve been a bit much…” Kakashi started, a hint of nervousness creeping into his words.

Itachi shook his head. “I should have seen it coming. It was a simple attack that could have been avoided. I was expecting something complex from you, but you reminded me not to underestimate the small things. Thank you, taichou.”

“Something to remember for next time.” Kakashi patted the boy on the back. “Give me a minute and then we’ll head back to the village to get you cleaned up and dried off.”

Then he turned to the rest of the team, who picked their jaws off the ground in an attempt to look professional again.

“You know the ANBU’s standards. You insisted on confirming that our new addition met them. I would say he’s surpassed them, wouldn’t you?”

Silence met him, but Tenzo could sense the spike of guilt from his comrades. Kakashi was right on the money, and none of the members of Team Ro would be underestimating or discriminating against Uchiha Itachi again any time soon. 

Tenzo himself had a new respect for the young prodigy, and foresaw him fitting into their team dynamic well.

“We are Team Ro,” Kakashi continued, and glanced at Itachi. “All of us. Age, gender, background, none of it matters. We are the Leaf’s main line of defense, and we all answer directly the Hokage. Anyone who wants to add their own opinion to this philosophy can feel free to speak with me personally. Otherwise…”

Tension crackled through the air, and a chill raced up Tenzo’s spine. He swore he saw Kakashi’s Sharingan glare from the shadows behind his mask.

“Have your teammate’s back. At all times.”

Every member bowed in response. “Yes, sir!”

Then the chill was gone. Kakashi slouched, and was the laid-back Hatake Tenzo and the rest of the team knew him as.

“Good,” he said. “Now, I think we could all use some showers - you all smell horrible.”

Itachi glanced up at the captain. “You stink too, taichou.”

Kakashi just shoved his head over, and turned on his heel to lead the way back into the village. The others laughed, and followed behind him.

Tenzo fell into step beside Itachi, and even though the boy couldn’t see it through his mask, he offered the Uchiha a smile.

“Welcome to Team Ro, Itachi.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello y'all! Welcome to my monster fic. //hit
> 
> Essentially, this is an ongoing oneshot collection that's being cross-posted from Fanfiction.net in hopes of kickstarting me into actually working on it again. I got quite far in it previously only to do the stupid thing and attempt to tackle a subgenre that I already knew cripples my inspiration every time. But maybe... maaaybe doing this will help me at least wrap that subplot up real quick and then move on.
> 
> That said, you can find art for this on my deviantArt, including the designs for Team Ro: http://fav.me/d9nea4r  
> They're not in color yet, but here's hoping I'll be able to get to that soon...
> 
> Anyway! I hope you guys enjoy this as much as I've enjoyed working on it. And if you feel so inclined, comment to let me know what you think. I'm open to prompts and subplot suggestions as well, so if you wanna see something in particular, there's a good chance it could show up in the story!
> 
> That's all for now! P.J. OUT -


	2. Youngest Member

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kakashi muses about the moral rights and wrongs of admitting an eleven-year-old into the ANBU.

Hatake Kakashi was warring with his own mind. Not to say that this was a rare occurrence, but the subject of his mental disagreement wasn’t the usual. Usually, he dwelt on darker things; things like guilt and shame and insufficiency. His mind was a place of hungry self-destructive shadows, after all. But no, tonight, as he laid in bed, staring at the ceiling, his thoughts circled around the newest ANBU recruit like buzzards.

Uchiha Itachi. Child prodigy. Sharingan. Deadly talent as a shinobi. It all sounded so awfully familiar.

He was likely the best in his time, if not in the history of the Leaf. Kakashi couldn’t recall off the top of his head the last time he heard of one single ninja holding so many high hopes, aside from perhaps the name Uchiha Shisui - and he was in Itachi’s peer group, and a fellow member of the ANBU.

Itachi, therefore, was a valuable asset to the village and the Land of Fire. With a generation of Uchihas such as his on the rise, Konoha would be well on its way to peace within its borders, and Itachi would be instrumental in its success.

Then why, Kakashi asked himself, did it feel so calloused to think of it this way? Why did he mentally cringe at calling Uchiha Itachi an asset?

He was. It was not wrong, was not an incorrect statement. But it felt wrong, so wrong that it kept Kakashi up for hours, ever since the day that little boy stepped into Team Ro’s locker room, shockingly aware of the life that he had signed himself over to.

The previous day was no exception. In which Kakashi accompanied Itachi on his very first ANBU mission. 

From Itachi’s simple response to Kakashi’s putting the mission in perspective - saying that he didn’t mind the food pills - to the ruthless way the boy had dispatched each and every enemy while Kakashi found himself busy dealing with Gai and his expected objections to their mission.

And Gai… he hadn’t the slightest clue. But he could never hide what he was feeling. Gai was horrified with what he’d witness that day; Kakashi had seen it etched across his face. And he couldn’t blame him. Gai had no darkness in his heart. No shadowed side of his mind that he had to try desperately to keep hidden from the rest of the world.

Meanwhile, Itachi had taken the initiative, despite being 11 years old, and carried out the brutal mission without a second’s hesitation. Kakashi still vividly recalled the scarlet blood that hung off the boy’s hand, spattered up his arm and across his flak jacket. It was something that made the everyday ninja proud. Itachi’s parents, the rest of Team Ro, the Sandaime Hokage himself acknowledged Itachi’s worth as an obedient shinobi. Even Kakashi had felt his respect for the boy leap up several notches.

But he couldn’t bring himself to feel anything but a sense of guilt. Of mourning. Mourning for whatever sort of child Itachi had once been, and would soon no longer be. Guilt for being a part of dragging him into this ruthless underworld. 

In the ideal world, no child would have to be a part of such darkness as the ANBU.

But this world was far from ideal. Kakashi had so much evidence of this fact, that it was almost comical in a dark, twisted sort of way.

The Leaf needed Itachi. Needed him so desperately that they were willing to sacrifice his childish innocence and humanity for the sake of their security.

Sunlight glared through Kakashi’s bedroom window, straight into his face. His Sharingan throbbed, and he squinted both eyes shut while he raised a hand to shield himself from the offensive light.

When had the sun come up? 

He recalled lying down to sleep, but sleep hadn’t come, and he’d had no choice but to lie there and dwell on these tumultuous thoughts until it did. Had he really mused straight through the night, all those hours, and not even noticed?

With a deep-rooted sigh, the Copy Nin sat up and rubbed his hands over his weary face, careful of his mask. Felt every stress line that aged him beyond his years. Now that he thought about it, his eyes felt dry, his eyelids heavy, but no more than usual. His sleeping pattern was erratic at best as it was; what was one more fitful night?

 _Ibiki will ask again, no doubt._

That was right, wasn’t it? Today was Eval Day again. 

“‘Spose I better get a move on, then…” he said to nobody. The silence of his apartment was the only reply he got.

Dredging up the motivation, he swung his legs over the edge of his bed and set his feet on the cold hardwood floor. The chill made him shiver, but he stood anyway. From his closet, he gathered his casual gear, and shuffled into his bathroom for a quick shower.

Ten minutes later saw him wandering the streets of the Leaf village in the virgin light of dawn, in no particular hurry to get to his destination. Between having another half hour before he was expected at the Interrogation Unit Headquarters, and feeling no great desire to see the sadistic Morino again, Kakashi let his feet drag and took the scenic route.

With his mind still running in circles over his previous subject, he moseyed along, oblivious to the world around him, until the laughter of children broke through the serene morning peacefulness. Like a rock shattering a pane of glass.

Kakashi raised his head and found himself passing by the Ninja Academy. A brown-haired teenager with a scar across the bridge of his nose - an Umino, Kakashi thought he was - ushered child after rambunctious child into the building and seemed to keep track of them with the clipboard he held.

And lo and behold, there appeared the subject of Kakashi’s nightly musings, ankles dogged by a smaller boy with spiky black hair, boasting the Uchiha crest on the back of his high-collared shirt.

Uchiha Itachi’s own casual wear made him look older than he was. Kakashi recalled how small the boy seemed when clad in his ANBU uniform.

“Nii-san,” the younger boy was saying to Itachi, with a great beaming grin on his face, “will you be home after school today?”

“I couldn’t say,” said Itachi, with a fond smile of his own. “I don’t think I’ll have a mission today, but you never know when something will come up unexpectedly.”

The younger boy seemed to pout. “That’s what you always say…”

“We’ll see, Sasuke. I’ll tell you what: maybe, if I am home when you get back, I’ll have all my work done. Then maybe I’ll help you with your homework. And then, maybe, we’ll get to some shuriken practice.”

The boy, Sasuke, wasn’t very much pleased with this proffered deal. He sulked all the more. “That’s a lot of maybes.”

Itachi laughed, a sound Kakashi had yet to hear. It made him stop in his tracks. 

_Such a youthful sound…_

“Sorry, Sasuke, but I’m afraid that’s how it has to be.” Itachi then beckoned the younger boy closer. Sasuke obliged with a trudge, only to be poked between the eyes by his older brother. Sasuke harumphed in displeasure, while Itachi continued speaking.

“If it doesn’t work out, we’ll have to do it next time.”

“When ‘next time’!?” Sasuke whined. The school bell interrupted his objection, and Itachi gave him a light push toward the main door.

“Hurry, Sasuke! You’ll be late!”

Despite heaving a begrudging sigh, the boy gripped his satchel strap and bounded off, leaving Itachi behind. The scarred teen - ah, Iruka! That was his name - met him at the door like a mother hen, shooing him inside. But before Sasuke’s feet crossed the threshold, he broke from Iruka’s fussing to turn and wave at his brother. His bright, untainted grin was back in place.

“Have your work done! I’ll see you after school, nii-san!” With that, the young Uchiha scampered into the building, with Iruka close behind.

Itachi stood there for several long, silent seconds. Kakashi found himself transfixed by the ghosts of what had just transpired, running over the scene in his mind.

Such a domestic moment. Simple and pure, two brothers being brothers. The damper came with the knowledge that Itachi was anything but a normal big brother.

He was ANBU.

As such, it shouldn’t have surprised Kakashi when Itachi turned to look right at him. There had been no wandering of his gaze; those piercing dark eyes had trained right on him where he stood rooted. 

He’d known Kakashi was there.

Itachi was certainly good enough for that to be so, and Kakashi was fully aware of that, but he couldn’t help stiffening under the boy’s intense stare.

Another moment of quiet passed between them. Then, without a word, Team Ro’s youngest member bowed his head, and then whisked off to the rooftops, dashing away in the direction of the ANBU barracks.

The air felt weighty with some unspoken message that Kakashi could only wish he had the skill to interpret. And he still had yet to solve his own nagging mental puzzle.

If Uchiha Itachi was such a rare talent and valuable comrade, why did it feel like a shame that he was counted equal among the likes of Hatake Kakashi?


	3. Friendly Neighborhood Psychoanalyst

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kakashi’s monthly psychological evaluation, hosted by Morino Ibiki.

“Are you getting enough sleep?”

No matter how many times this question was asked, the answer always remained the same. It wasn’t that Morino Ibiki didn’t know the answer. The answer was obvious, and written across every deepening shadow under the Hatake’s empty eye. But still he asked, perhaps with a vain hope that maybe for once, the silver-haired ANBU prodigy would be straightforward. Honest.

He trusted that Kakashi knew exactly what he meant, despite the vague wording.

The dead-eyed man gave a lethargic nod. That action alone took more effort on his part than it should. “I am.”

Ibiki stared at him long and hard, eyes narrow. He hated when his clients lied to him. Mostly, due to the fact that he could see straight through it and therefore, took the lie as an insult to his intelligence. That never seemed to stop this particular case, no matter how many glares he got for it.

And thanks to protocol, there was not much Ibiki could do about it either. These evaluation sessions were meant to study the psychological states of those in the ANBU, Team Ro specifically since the latter dealt directly with the Hokage and as such, was a greater security risk. 

Nobody wanted a mentally unstable operative holding the fate of the Leaf’s leader in their hands.

Kakashi himself danced on the line between functional and unfit for service, in Ibiki’s opinion, but he always gave the right answers. To most, he was coherent and grounded; no signs of schizophrenia, heightened anxiety, depression, or suicidal tendencies. None, at least, that were obvious.

The Elders and the Hokage praised him as a testament to his generation. A true shinobi, strong to the core and ready to do anything, even the dirtiest of assignments, to protect his village.

They didn’t see him right after such an assignment, when he looked like he wanted nothing more than to curl up in his empty apartment and never come out again.

And it was that antisocial streak that was beginning to concern Ibiki more than anything else. _Not depressed, my foot._

More concerning was what exactly a depressed shinobi could do when he was by himself. Leaving such a man to his own inner demons was a disaster waiting to happen. Another Hatake that he knew of came to mind.

From what Ibiki had read in the records, Kakashi was well on his way down the very same self-destructive path that his father, Sakumo, had wandered over.

Not that he could prove it. Yet.

He tapped his fingers on his desk top, staring at the eval page on the clipboard in his lap. Most of the chicken scratches portrayed a mix of his current thoughts and the usual information he tended to put down concerning Hatake Kakashi, captain of Team Ro. Every evaluation produced the same information, but always a hint darker. A hint more hopeless. A hint more unnerving.

That was how it was with Kakashi. A slow descent into madness.

But the client himself seemed bound and determined to pretend everything was fine. 

So for today, rather than beat around the same bush they always did and get nowhere, Ibiki chose a different approach.

“How’s the new recruit doing?” Ibiki sat straight in his chair and swiveled so he could prop his elbows on his desk, setting the clipboard in front of him. “You took him on his first mission yesterday.”

Kakashi blinked. This, at last, was more of a reaction than Ibiki usually got. A subtle shift in expression told him most of what he needed to know - the smallest of furrows between his eyes, a twitch downward of his eyebrow, and a subtle hardening. Kakashi was frustrated at something, and that something was directly related to the question he’d just been posed.

“The mission went well,” the Hatake finally said, rather simply. He managed to school his face back into its apathetic mask, and Ibiki managed not to bang his forehead against something hard. Stubborn fool… “But I’m sure you read the report.”

“That’s not what I asked, Hatake-san.”

The ANBU captain took a moment to ponder, visible eye searching empty air for answers.

“He’s a skilled shinobi,” he finally said, and Ibiki waited for an answer that was a little more useful. “He’s calculating, level-headed, and he’s willing to do anything asked of him. He’s a good addition to the team.”

Again, Ibiki found his question had been effectively dodged. He hadn’t asked about Itachi Uchiha’s talent. But unfortunately, asking again wouldn’t get him anywhere. Not like this. 

“He gets along with the other operatives?” Ibiki wrote _‘still evasive’_ on one of the few empty lines in the Notes section of his page.

Again, Kakashi took a moment to think before answering.

“It’s hard to say. He hasn’t been around that long.”

“I see…” Ibiki tapped his pen on the board, and then figured there was no harm in digging deeper. “What do you think about such a young boy joining the ANBU rather than pursuing jounin?”

“There are plenty of chuunin in the ANBU,” Kakashi replied without hesitation.

“Not what I meant.”

“Perhaps you should say what you mean, then.”

Ibiki frowned. He sensed an undertone of hostility, despite the laid back delivery of the jibe. Nothing in the Hatake’s face gave anything away, besides the fact that for once, he was looking Ibiki in the eye.

This was what separated predators from prey. Prey avoided eye contact. Predators initiated it.

Too bad Ibiki had already beat the Hatake to the punch - at the beginning of every evaluation.

He welcomed the hidden glare behind that dull grey eye. It was a reaction, and a reaction spoke volumes.

“So: what _do_ you think about it?” he prompted.

Kakashi sighed and took his sweet time before answering, staring off at nothing while he did. Ibiki found himself grinding his teeth, and jotted down _‘antagonistic tendencies toward certain positions of authority, me in particular’_.

Finally, Kakashi shrugged. “I don’t know.”

Ibiki gripped the pen tightly between his fingers. But of course, now was not the time for demonstrations of frustration. That could wait until he was home and alone. He did, however, manage to keep his expression in a cold mask of non-enthusiasm. Kakashi’s attitude certainly did nothing to impress him.

“…You know why this is my job, don’t you, Hatake-san?”

“I do.”

“And you know that I’m able to get a full map of your psych via Mind Transfer if and when I should choose to do so, should you refuse to cooperate?”

“I am aware.”

And yet, the ANBU op still made no effort to meet him in the middle. He remained secluded in his inner sanctum, some deep corner of his mind, and talked with Ibiki as if speaking through a window. Muffled and distant.

Ibiki scribbled. _‘Noncommittal as ever.’_

He gave Kakashi chance after chance. One of these days, he’d have to follow through on this threat. He needed a clearer view of this man’s mental plane - if he couldn’t get it, he was taking a risk with more lives than one. And that risk grew every time Kakashi returned from a mission a little bit darker, a little bit more bloodstained.

“Our time’s up.”

Ibiki glanced up at this, still not giving Kakashi any great reaction. He could give back as much reticence as the other dished out. He took more time than necessary to finish up his thoughts on paper and lazily turn to look at the clock on the wall. 

They had one minute to go.

“Oh, no, we still have 57 seconds.” Ibiki folded his hands in front of him, pinching his pen between the knuckles of his index and middle fingers. “How’s the socializing going?”

A very vague, very reluctant ‘meh’ was all he got in response.

Ibiki allowed himself a smirk. “I see. Well, your assignment for this month is as follows: go on at least three outings, with at least one other person. This does not include missions or anything work related. This also does not include the members of your team while on duty. This can, however, include a teammate at a time both of you are off duty. I suggest you go on one outing per weekend. If you happen to take a mission that requires longer than one week to complete, this does not nullify any part of this assignment. All three outings must be completed, and I want a detailed report at next month’s eval. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.” He didn’t sound enthusiastic - when did he? - but if there was one thing Hatake Kakashi understood, it was orders.

Ibiki nodded. “Now you’re dismissed.”

With how much trouble he’d given him this time, Ibiki would’ve expected Kakashi to practically jump out of the chair and hightail it out like his sanity depended on it. But the Copy Nin just stood with as much gusto as a recovering concussion victim, stuffed his hands in his pockets, and shuffled from the room.

Ibiki watched him go without a word, and once the door was shut, released the weary sigh that had been building in the back of his throat for the last ten minutes. He dropped his hands to the desktop, and skimmed over all the little notes he’d put down during this month’s eval.

_‘…evasive.’_

_‘Antagonistic tendencies…’_

_‘Noncommittal…’_

And then his final set of scratches: _‘His objections to regular psych evals increase with every session. He’s running mentally from something. What? Not sure yet. Perhaps the Uchiha??’_

He would have to compare notes with that Umino kid in the next couple days. He was interning in this department, and Ibiki had given him Uchiha Itachi as his second client. Both were new additions in their respective fields, so it was likely to produce something substantial. More so than Ibiki’s sessions with Kakashi of late, for sure.

 _Little brat…_ Hatake Kakashi had the strange ability to make Ibiki feel like a senior, as opposed to a peer.

Because after all, the former was only one year younger than the latter.


	4. Tiny Feet, Combat Boots

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Umino Iruka, interning in Konoha's T&I, meets a young Uchiha Itachi as the child's new counselor.

Umino Iruka’s only hope was that this client would be much more agreeable than the last one. 

Uchiha Itachi hailed from the very same ANBU team, but he was new and he was young and, of course, an Uchiha. Which Iruka wasn’t sure whether or not to be happy about. As a member of such an elite clan, it was likely the boy would have a better grasp of propriety than the Lizard of Team Ro, a certain Hyuga Hokamaru (which was actually quite ironic).

Or, it could just mean that Itachi would be a snobbish, self-absorbed prick. Or worse, some kind of sociopath…

The fact of the matter was that there were too many ways this introductory session could go, and Iruka was beginning to wonder why he’d decided to take a year interning as a psych examiner at all.

Too many variables, too much confrontation, and worst of all, dealing with all the darkness these ANBU operatives brought with them. They always had an ominous sense of foreboding hovering around them like a cloud, and with those masks, you could never tell whether or not they were staring at you.

And their unpredictable mental state… 

Yes, he was very much beginning to regret this now.

The clock struck two o’ clock. On the second chime, somebody knocked on the office door. 

His eyebrows rose. Could that be Itachi? So prompt! That was, of course, if it was him. The fifteen-year-old chuunin stood from his comfortable desk chair and scuttled over to the door, taking the cold knob in his grip and turning. After but a moments hesitation, he swung it open.

A young boy stood on the other side. Very young. The file had said the Uchiha was eleven, and so Iruka shouldn’t have been surprised, but he couldn’t help it. The boy looked so small in a uniform fashioned for much larger, greater shinobi.

Coal-black eyes, soft and gentle and inquisitive as a cat’s, stared up at him from under neatly parted ebony bangs. The rest of his long hair was tied back in a thick ponytail, and rather than the skin-tight, sleeveless underarmor that most ANBU wore, this child donned the Uchiha’s traditional high-collared, short sleeved shirt. Were he not wearing his grey flak jacket, Iruka would likely have seen an Uchiha crest at the center of the back.

_Wait… this is the boy I saw with Sasuke outside the Academy this morning. That’s right, Sasuke’s older brother!_

“Hello,” said the boy, civilly enough. “Uh… Iruka-san?”

“Oh, yes, that’s me. Hello! Uh, please, come in.” Iruka opened the door wider and stepped aside to allow the boy entrance. “You’re Uchiha Itachi, right?”

“That’s right.” Itachi stepped into the meager work space, and looked around. His eyes, despite their youth, seemed to hold a heightened awareness for his surroundings, and a mature calculating glint as well. If Iruka didn’t know his age and was watching from a distance, he might mistake him for an older teen, perhaps older than Iruka himself.

Such an odd feeling, the sense that somebody acts and feels older than oneself despite one’s obvious seniority.

“It smells like cloves in here…” Itachi noted in the midst of his observation. It was not an expression of distaste, or of delight. Only a simple statement.

Iruka gave paused, and took a moment to sniff for himself. He hadn’t been in this office long, but he also adjusted to changes in setting rather quickly. He certainly hadn’t noticed any cloves. 

Leaving that puzzle to simmer, Iruka drew himself straighter and gestured to his work station, more speficially, the overstuffed clients’ chairs sitting opposite his desk.

“Have a seat,” Iruka offered, trying to remain accommodating and not let his previous apprehension show through. Thus far, Itachi didn’t seem terribly intimidating. Perhaps it was his height…

Itachi did as he was told and sat down with a certain amount of noble grace. The chair, however, had different ideas, and seemed to swallow the boy up. He fidgeted a little in an attempt to find a comfortable spot. A blush flashed over his face when it seemed his efforts were in vain.

Iruka offered him a sympathetic look. “Sorry about those; I don’t care for them either…”

The young Uchiha managed to find a decent position and stilled there, waiting a moment or two of silence before raising his eyes to Iruka again. The balance of maturity and innocence in those eyes yet again caught the chuunin off guard.

Then Iruka recalled that it was his job to start the session off.

“Oh, uh… Well, I guess… first things first?” He sat back down at his own chair behind his desk, and fished about the stacks of paperwork for his clipboard and analysis documents. Now, I set them around here somewhere… Aha! There. He set it squarely in front of him and dragged a pen close.

Itachi nodded, and settled in to listen. He seemed to have decent manners - that was a good sign.

Iruka relocated the boy’s file and thumbed through it yet again, refreshing himself to details. “So I see your first ANBU mission was yesterday… Congrats. How did that go?”

“It went well,” said Itachi, young voice even and professional. “There were complications later during the execution, but we expected it and initiated a counterattack before anyone could get hurt.”

Iruka frowned a little. The child’s developed vocabulary and amicable disposition was all well and good, but that wasn’t exactly the answer he’d wanted. He’d hoped for something a bit more insightful about the boy’s state of mind. Maybe it was his wording… He needed to be specific.

“Well, that’s good… and what about you? How did you feel about it?”

Itachi blinked at him, genuine confusion on his dark Uchiha features. “About… what?”

“Um… for starters, how about your team captain? He accompanied you on the mission, right? What do you think of him? Are you getting along?”

Itachi pondered this a moment before answering with a thoughtful glance upward. “Kakashi-taichou is an interesting person… He’s a good leader, from what I’ve observed so far. I think he cares about the team, and he does a good job keeping things organized and professional.”

Iruka made a note on his page. _‘High respect for authority! Surpassing initial expectations.’_ “Good. How about you? How do you feel about him personally?”

Again, the Uchiha took a moment to come up with an answer. Iruka used that time to write another small note.

_‘Introspective. Thinks before speaking.’_

“He’s somebody I can willingly follow,” the child said at length. The weight of the comment made Iruka take pause and marvel, pen frozen above the paper’s surface.

This eleven-year-old spoke like an adult. It was mind-boggling. He must have had such a sense of honor, respect, and a deep intuition of thing unspoken, to wield a phrase like that.

He couldn’t help but smile. “Very good.” A few more scribbles of notes. “How about the mission itself? Did you find it difficult or more strenuous than you expected? How did it impact you?”

“The mission was quite easy. Easier than I thought it would be, actually.”

Now, this answer brought a shadow of disturbance to the forefront of Iruka’s mind. He paused, and glanced up at the boy, who still looked as young and unperturbed as when he walked in.

But Iruka had read up on the mission. As a simple chuunin, he wasn’t allowed any specifics, but he knew enough. People had died, and Itachi along with Hatake Kakashi were the harbingers. Had Itachi even experienced that kind of intense combat before?

“I see…” Iruka played with his pen absently. “Pardon me for being blunt, but… the enemy shinobi. How many of them did you kill?”

Finally, Itachi’s eyes cast downward, and he hesitated in answering. “Well… three. Kakashi-taichou took out two of them… until Gai-taichou distracted him. Then I dispatched those that the latter left alive.”

“How many?”

“…Four.”

Iruka’s heart sank. That made Itachi’s hit count a total of seven on his first mission. And knowing ANBU, that meant up close and personal killings. 

Yet he was so casual… or was he?

“What was going through your mind?” Iruka asked, without really meaning to. Despite it being part of his current job, he found he genuinely wanted to know the answer.

Itachi took even longer to answer that. When he finally did, he looked Iruka in the eye and spoke with such conviction that Iruka found his tongue once again coated lead, momentarily dumbstruck.

“I don’t like hurting people… but if it’s for the safety of my village, I’ll do anything necessary.”


	5. Phaseshifter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tenzo and his counselor talk about socialization and Root over tea.

As far as ANBU operatives went, ex-Root member Tenzo was by far one of the most agreeable. Which was a rather ironic notion, when one thought about it. He’d come from the coldest ground in the Land of Fire, caught up in political ranglings and double-crossings. Now, he had lingering issues with social deprivation and trust. But compared to many others, he would dare say the last wood-style user was downright tame. And Dokuraku Mawashi honestly couldn’t be more grateful.

After all, he’d been present after sessions in which Kakashi Hatake Kakashi drove Konoha T&I’s new stone-faced leader up the wall. Young as he was, Morino Ibiki was sturdy as a boulder, but everyone had limitations to their tolerance.

Mawashi found himself almost spoiled, sitting here, enjoying a pleasant cup of steaming jasmine alongside the good-natured teenager, talking about the ebbs and flows of life.

“So,” Mawashi at last prompted, after a particularly satisfying sip from his cool china mug, “how goes this month’s reintegration exercise?”

Tenzo, with a breath of relaxation or exasperation (Mawashi wasn’t entirely sure which), set his own cup of chai, and leaned back in his seat. His large, dark eyes darted here and there across the ceiling, over rapidly moving thoughts. “It goes well… I think.”

“Who’d you pick?”

“That happened more by accident…”

* * *

_“I don’t ever want to see a cat again,” said Lizard, fingering his jaw under his mask as the three ANBU operatives finally returned to the familiar green gates that beckoned them into the waiting haven that was the Village Hidden in the Leaves. “Or the Land of Claws for that matter.”_

_“Oh, bologna,” said Frog, one hand firmly on his hip and the other strung up in a tattered makeshift sling, all thanks to a dislocated shoulder. With Lizard’s help, Tenzo had managed to reset it while still on the field, but with all the traveling they’d done to return, the swelling didn’t exactly have the ideal conditions to go down. No, they’d been far too busy with escaping a rough (but completed) sabotage mission in the Land of Claws, with a pride of angry summons at their backs._

_“You love cats,” Frog finished, head high, seeming to be in a decent mood despite his injuries. “You have, what… five of them?”_

_“Two,” Lizard insisted, at last removing his hand to cease fidgeting with the scratches he’d suffered. “Just two. That’s it, and it’s plenty.”_

_“Sure.”_

_Tenzo, seeing that his two comrades weren’t going to do it, offered the gatekeepers a leisurely wave. The young chunins, Kotetsu and Izumo, were on duty today, and despite their quite apparent boredom, they both waved in return. That done, Tenzo paused, and in his stillness, managed to get the other two the halt in their steps as well._

_“I need to get the report to the Hokage right away,” he said, and frowned upon noticing that Lizard didn’t seem to be paying attention. “Lizard, you take Frog to the hospital to get something for that arm. Okay?”_

_There was no reaction to hint that the older boy heard him at all. Frown deepening, Tenzo glanced to Frog for assistance, but the latter just shrugged. Of course he would be no help._

_“Lizard!” Tenzo blurted, tone sharpened._

_The abrupt sound got Lizard’s attention, but when he finally spoke up, it was not the response Tenzo wanted._

_“Hey, look, it’s that chunin,” he said, gaze still rooted on something down the road._

_“There are lots of chunin,” Frog deadpanned._

_“Shut up! I mean my stupid shrink - that little Umino punk who thinks he’s something else.”_

_Tenzo followed Lizard’s line of sight and, sure enough, the young paperwork ninja approached from down the dusty street with an armload of manilla files - likely updates or extra work for the gatekeepers._

_“You really shouldn’t say things like that,” Tenzo replied, giving the other ANBU a stern glance to convey his disapproval._

_“What about him anyway?” Frog asked, effectively leaving the subject open for further discussion despite Tenzo’s comment. At this point, such an action should not have come as a surprise, considering that Lizard and Frog were two troublesome peas in a pod. Any efforts to dissuade one while in the other’s presence were soon proved fruitless. So much for peacekeeping._

_“I already said. He’s a presumptuous little upstart who thinks he can dig in to everyone else’s business.” Lizard clenched his fists at his sides, subtly rolling his shoulders._   
_Perhaps only action would persuade them at this point. Tenzo sighed. “Let’s just get going, you two…” Then he moved to the nearest rooftop to continue on his way. They were still clad in their ANBU gear after all. It would be better to remain inconspicuous until they could get to the locker rooms._

_However, he couldn’t just leave without making completely sure that the other two would follow. Keeping an eye trained on the twosome below, he watched closely as Lizard and Frog began walking down the main street. What were they doing? Were they planning to just walk straight through to the hospital?_

_Lizard led the way with his hands in his pockets, and it was clear he had a definite destination in mind. Then Tenzo remembered Iruka, saw two lines ready to intersect, and mentally slapped himself for being so quick to leave Lizard unattended._

_But it was too late now. Lizard and Frog, in all technicality, could have avoided a run-in at all. The street was wide and rather empty this time of day. But no, Lizard had to make a beeline for the distracted chuunin and as he passed by, he let his shoulder bump him hard enough to loosen his grip on at least two files. Sheafs of paperwork swooshed from his hands and fluttered to the dirt. This, of course, made Iruka a tad more aware of his surroundings as he scrambled to catch the wayward paperwork._

_“Whoops,” said Lizard, his insincerity audible even from here. “Sorry.”_

_Iruka glanced up, and frowned at the ANBU. “Lizard…?”_

_In a flash, both operatives were gone and taking to the rooftops on their way to the hospital. They left the younger ninja to clean up his mess in solitude, just as the wind was beginning to pick up._

_Of course it would pick up. That was just how the world worked._

_Iruka, frantic as he soon became, tried coaxing the loose papers into behaving until he caught them. The papers seemed bound and determined to throw his charitable tone in his face by fluttering and flopping just out of reach. Then a particularly powerful gust whipped up the main street and took a handful of papers with it._

_“No!” Iruka moaned, before sagging where he stood to watch the lost documents fly to their freedom._

_That is, until five tendrils of wood, each with a clean slit that could resemble a bill-shaped mouth at the end, reached from a nearby building, one to catch each paper. They did their job quickly and efficiently, and within a matter of seconds, Tenzo pulled them all back to him, reabsorbing the wood and gathering the lost paperwork in his hand. Then he hopped down, a few steps from the young Umino, and approached with reserved hesitation. He still wasn’t confident dealing with people; he had been improving, according to his psychiatrist, but he’d spent far too long as a weapon on the wall. He’d been used, but only to kill, and the blood ingrained in the grooves of his blade had made him rusty._

_How could an ANBU initiate a casual situation? He would’ve offered a smile, but he still wore his mask._

_“I apologize for my comrade,” he said lightly as he held the papers out for Iruka to take. “He, unfortunately, is like that to everybody.”_

_Iruka was staring, now, his mouth agape. Silence stretched on. The papers hovered between them in Tenzo’s hand, waiting to be taken, and the longer they waited, the more anxious Tenzo became._

_What was he staring at so intently? It was making him uncomfortable._

_He cleared his throat. “Umino-san…”_

_Iruka started, blinking from his trance long enough to gingerly take the papers from him. Then, instead of staring, he turned to studying. This wasn’t much better._

_“That was…” he began, hesitantly but with evident curiosity. “The First Hokage’s wood style.”_

_“Yes. It was.”_

* * *

“Well, all things considered, it sounds like that went well,” said Mawashi, stirring a little more sugar into his cup and watching each little crystallized particle dissolve into the hot liquid.

“I suppose. Could’ve been better, though.” Tenzo stared absently into his tea. He seemed reserved, more so than usual, and that usually meant something about the situation was troubling him. Perhaps it didn’t even relate directly, and only had a mild connection to the subject on the table, but those were things Tenzo had yet to disclose with his psychoanalyst.

“Don’t underestimate small beginnings,” said Mawashi. “Look, you and Kakashi: you were enemies to begin with, but now… You’re his right-hand man, and as I understand it, you trust each other exclusively.”

Mawashi knew Tenzo had trouble putting solid faith in people, but he also liked to think that the bond he’d formed with the prodigious Hatake was one of many good relationships to come for the ex-Root member. Tenzo, unlike many ANBU operatives, had the inherent desire to help people. To get to know them. And despite being introverted through and through, he enjoyed the company of others, mostly in small, manageable doses that could result in deep, meaningful connections rather than frivolous small talk. This made the possibility of healthy, powerful bonds that much more attainable for him.

“Exclusively?” Tenzo chuckled. “I don’t know about that.”

“You don’t even trust _me_ that much.”

Tenzo couldn’t hide a smile, but instead chose to stare down into his tea again.

Seeing that this subject was worn already, Mawashi moved on after making a small note of his observations on his clipboard page.

“How are things going with Uchiha Itachi?”

Every member of Team Ro was being asked this question; they’d probably complained about it amongst themselves, but it definitely warranted asking. Tenzo’s smile subdued itself. If that instant reaction didn’t speak ‘sober subject’, Mawashi couldn’t say what did. He prepared to make a negative note, if this unspoken opinion was anything to go by.

“Good. Very good, actually…” Tenzo swiveled the cup between his hands, transfixed by the ripples that appeared in its contents. “He’s a talented, dedicated ninja. He’s executed the missions he’s been given with professional efficiency.”

And clearly, Tenzo had reservations about this fact. Likely, it wasn’t out of a sense of guilt. If it was, he would find himself more out of place among the general ninja population than he otherwise would’ve liked. Perhaps it was more a sense of mourning. Between having his own childhood stolen away from him and befriending Umino Iruka, Tenzo was more than aware of what the shinobi world did to children - especially talented ones.

But that was a hazard of the occupation.

“People are often aware of what they can or cannot handle,” said Mawashi. “Granted, sometimes, they ignore it. But when it comes right down to it, they know. Don’t underestimate Itachi.”

“Yes… but we shouldn’t overestimate him, either.”

* * *

_A child. Of all the targets presented to them via the mission details, Itachi had been left to handle with the youngest one among them. Expected to brush it off. Just another mark on the list. A red check by a faceless name. The boy was even supposed to be asleep, like the rest of his family, but missions weren’t always so kind as to make things easy._

_The high-profile family was a target due to their lack of longstanding loyalties and tendency to shift sides when favorable winds blew. They also happened to be one of the wealthiest arms dealers in the Land of Fire. This created a conflict of interests when somebody with a wider pocketbook and more generous hand came along with intriguing offers._

_They were a threat to security. The head of the organization and head of the family had refused to see reason from the Hokage himself. So they were eliminated._

_But a child… In his time as an ANBU, Tenzo hadn’t had to face something like that. He was fully prepared to, should the time come, but… This was Itachi. Itachi was barely more than a child himself._

_Yet, as with all other assignments, the young Uchiha had followed through without question. Finding the child wandering toward his parents’ room had been taken in stride, and with a hasty genjutsu and a kunai across the neck, Itachi had finished it quickly and quietly. No tears, no screams, and no wasted time or effort. Just pools of hot blood._

_And so, after the mission found Tenzo catching up to Itachi outside the Hokage tower as an east wind whispered through the city streets, ushering in the sunset. The fading light turned blue skies to soft pinks and oranges, an eerily peaceful sight after their exposure to so much red over the course of the last 24 hours._

_“Itachi-kun!” he called, speeding up to a jog in order to finally come up alongside the young Uchiha. “Wait!”_

_Itachi stopped, but kept his gaze downcast. This alone was enough to concern Tenzo, without any added explanation. Itachi was a quiet child, but never brooding. Tenzo could practically see the thoughts brewing in his mind - the boy was likely running over the mission again and again in his mind. That’s what everyone did. It was how being an ANBU worked._

_Tenzo understood. He felt the need to discuss it, if only to help assuage the stinging bewilderment that came with the philosophical questions surrounding what they did for a living. The moral and ethical justness of it all._

_But bringing it up, right now, didn’t seem like the best idea._

_“Where are you headed?” he asked instead, feigning a casual attitude, without being flippant. Such a thing was difficult to project, especially around someone as intuitive as Uchiha Itachi._

_After a short hesitation, Itachi glanced up at him. His eyes, usually alight with a sense of refreshing wonder, were dark and clouded. Not quite like Kakashi’s, but not like himself either. “To the Academy. I need to pick up my brother and take him home.”_

_Tenzo nodded. No doubt, he needed some time to himself as well, after that. “Mind if I walk with you?”_

_“I’d…” Itachi had looked ready to object, but then stopped, waited another moment, and then looked down again. “Well… okay.”_

_And so, they walked. The entire way went in silence, and Tenzo felt no overt need to break that silence. He’d let Itachi know he was willing to talk just by being present, but it was up to the prodigy whether or not he took him up on it. For now, Tenzo was content just keeping an eye on him._

_When they reached the Academy building, children had already begun filing out of the front door like spasmodic ants. Shrill voices filled the air, and little bodies bounded here and there, some in cliques, some alone, all with someplace to go before it got dark. Tenzo paused at the corner of the block, not so willing to go any closer for fear of being caught and cornered by a wide-eyed gaggle of pre-genin. Itachi didn’t break his stride as he continued on ahead._

_If he was going to say anything, it had to be now._

_“I’m sorry, Itachi,” Tenzo offered. The Uchiha paused. “About today. I wish-“_

_“It’s okay,” Itachi said, “Tenzo-san… We’re ANBU. We do what needs to be done… to protect the village.”_

_“…That’s right.”_

_He had nothing more to say, and neither did Itachi. The latter went on toward the Academy, and a few moments later, a blur of black raced out to tackle him with a hug around his waist. Itachi smiled and laughed, like any good older brother would, and Tenzo couldn’t help but stare in absolute awe, wondering at how skilled Uchiha Itachi was at burying himself._

* * *

Mawashi nodded. This sort of situation was common among young shinobi. War and battle was unfortunately glorified before the youth in their day and age, and there were so few ways to prepare a young and upcoming ninja for the horrors they would face in reality. Those who had experienced it for themselves could caution them, tell them with simple words in hopes of making them understand, but nothing could be adequate enough. Still, all things considered, it sounded as though Itachi took it better than most.

“You can’t feel responsible, though, Tenzo. It just isn’t practical.”

“I don’t feel responsible…” Just as Mawashi thought. “It’s just… a real shame that someone like him would have to deal with all this crap. Like you said, all things considered, he’s taking it pretty well, but I don’t like the idea that this maturity of his could be taken for granted.”

“I see.” An understandable concern. Prodigies, good as they were, were so often pushed to their limits and beyond - as illustrated by cases like Hatake Kakashi and his father, Sakumo, before him. Their skill made them likely targets of overexertion and mental stress, which led to a breakdown in their psychological patterns and eventually… something cracked. Something, somewhere, gave to all the pressure, all the weight set upon their shoulders.

But, in the world they lived in, there was really nothing to be done about it. Prodigies like these were necessary to the Leaf’s survival, and so their natural talent was naturally noticed, nurtured, and then put to use. What could be done, however, was to intercept issues like animosity and depression and redirect them before they could once again lead to tragedy.

And Mawashi knew that as well as Tenzo did.

He made a few more notes, before glancing at the clock. “Oh, our time’s almost up. Listen, before you go, why don’t you tell me a little more about this Hiding in Surface technique you’ve been working on…”


	6. Meet Lizard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a Hyuga has no manners and Yamanaka Satomi has a headache.

From the first words from the smirking mouth of Hyuga Hokamaru - known in the ANBU as Lizard - Satomi knew they would have a problem. It wasn’t often that a man could manage to offend her with the first five syllables she heard from him, and therefore, his ability to do so marked him as both a special case and a difficult one.

“Oh, come on,” he bemoaned, yet the quirk of his lips and the tilt of his head told her that he found the situation more amusing than anything. “A woman? When I heard Umino was transferring, I thought I’d be getting a step up.”

How could anyone manage to be chauvinistic in this shinobi world? It made no sense, with many highly skilled female warriors under Konoha’s belt - Senju Tsunade of the Three Legendary Sannin only one among many, many others. But it seemed that this handsome young Hyuga had no regard for either social standards, or at the very least, women in general.

She made a note of this on her clipboard, which prompted the Hyuga to scoff.

“What? What’d I do? We’re not five minutes in, and you’re writing stuff.”

Keeping a reserved, professional air and forcing herself not to react, she gestured to the chair opposite her desk. “Please, have a seat.” His type lived for shock. Life was a constant push and pull of action and reaction that he enjoyed toying with, and such a deduction was readily backed up by the files she’d been given concerning him.

His white eyes were quite expressive, she decided. Compared to most other Hyuga, who were notorious for their noble, almost otherworldly airs, this young man carried himself with overconfidence and condescension. In some forms, this was normal for someone of his family line, but this was different. Bolder, maybe. Louder? Less dignified? She couldn’t pinpoint an accurate term.

He strutted across the room - that was a good word, she thought, strutted - and fell into the chair she gestured to with an utter lack of dignity. He then propped one leg on the knee of the other, and made himself comfortable.

He must have only just returned from a mission, Satomi determined. His neck and arms had the dull matte glimmer of drying sweat. However, she perhaps would have to change that deduction; he wore casual attire - a selection of sportswear, including a baggy, sweat-stained hooded jacket with no sleeves, and the standard issue slacks given to ninjas, with wrappings around his calves. 

Didn’t he jog? That must have been what he was doing.

She set her clipboard down and rested her elbows over it. “My name is Yamanaka Satomi.”

“Ooh, Yamanaka,” he repeated with a sneer. “Scary.”

She granted him nothing more than a twitch of her eyebrow. Then she made another note.

_Challenging disposition. Testing my mettle._

“You are Hyuga Hokamaru,” she stated, setting her pen aside.

“You’re pretty good at this.”

 _Repetitive put-downs. Signs of subtle need for reassurance. Of what?_

This time, she held onto the pen. Seemed like she might need it more than she thought. “Tell me a bit about yourself, Hokamaru. I have Umino-san’s notes, but I’d like to hear it from you.”

“A bit about myself… Such as?”

“Likes, dislikes. Dreams for the future. Hobbies.”

“Oh, that stuff…” With a dramatic sigh, he lounged back in the seat and seemed to ponder over this. He took his time, but not too much time. “Well… I like jogging and and my taijutsu practice time. Punching a random person is considered wrong, so I have to hit a bag full of sand, but whatever. I dislike other Hyuga, and people who try to tell me how I should live my life.” He paused to think another moment, which resulted in a wry snort on his part. “Does anyone really have ‘dreams for the future’ anymore? I suppose if I have to say anything, it would be to defy the Hyuga legacy. As for hobbies… Taijutsu, running, weight training. That sort of thing.”

_Considerable focus on health, external appearance, and going against the grain. Potential for obsessive behavior._

“You include a lot of exercise in your daily routine?” she asked, tapping her lip with the end of her pen.

The Hyuga shrugged. “I guess. What else is there to do when I’m off duty?”

“I don’t know. Make friends. Go out to eat with said friends. Read a book. Gamble away your life savings. There are many things to do in Konoha.”

Hokamaru’s wry smirk turned sour - not to the point where it ceased being a smile, but it was no longer the casual expression he wore before. It darkened somehow. Interesting.

“Heh,” he chuckled ruefully, “I don’t really like eating out. Books are for dweebs, and please, I’d like to think I’m a little better with my paychecks than some.”

“I wasn’t limiting it to those examples specifically.”

“Yeah, well, I’ll stick with my current hobbies, thanks.”

_Rigid self reliance, despite initial laid back attitude. Highly independent._

“You sure are writing a lot,” the young man commented, peering at Satomi’s clipboard. “More than Umino-chan. But then, he spent most of the time during our sessions trying to keep a lid on his blood pressure.”

“You antagonized him often?” Satomi tilted her head, watching for the reaction. Two could play at these controls. His posture hadn’t changed at all during this time, but his emotions displayed rather clearly on his face. But perhaps that was only a facade as well.

“Why not? He’s a paperwork ninja, and a _chunin_. What does he think he’s doing playing therapist for ANBU operatives anyway?”

Her pen came up again. _Possible superiority complex._

They continued on this way for the next hour. Satomi ignored the Hyuga’s frequent antics and often rude asides in order to glean between the lines. When time ran out - far too quickly in her opinion - and she bid him good afternoon, she waited until he’d good and gone before looking over her two pages of notes.

Hokamaru had a penchant for violent reactions, as demonstrated by his files and what little she could learn from his evident physical responses to certain nosy questions. He was quick to pounce, but also quite intelligent in the areas of people analysis and strategy. With that cynical wit came an adaptability that most shinobi would kill for - literally in some cases.

Not much seemed to faze him in the area of trauma, blood, or death. No, what fazed him was whatever was causing his own personal issues.

Animosity toward his clan, a deep-rooted dislike for tradition and social expectations, and a nasty temper that reared its head whenever one of these subjects came up.

According to his files, he was a skilled ninja. Highly valuable to his village, and an essential part of Team Ro. 

But she could see the darkness. The one most thought necessary to even enter into the elite ANBU Black Ops. It was there, very evident in his distaste for the world. His was just louder and more volatile than most of his peers.

Which was cause for concern.

This anger, on the surface, didn’t seem to be directed at any specific person in particular. But she knew very little of just how quick his temper was - was there a chance that, given the opportunity, a fellow shinobi or worse, a civilian might fall victim to that anger?

She’d compiled her concerns, and gave them a once over before slipping them into the file that would be turned in to the Hokage. There was a dim hope that any of them would be truly considered. Most shinobi, herself included, wouldn’t see a great need for drastic measures at this point. If anything, next month, she’d assign him to some meager social exercises. 

But in case there was somebody higher in the ranks who would see these shortcomings as reason for dire action, she was obligated to put it down. 

_Now… coffee. Coffee sounds good._


	7. Meet Otter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Uzumaki Red is Suzume’s vocal psych analyst and Suzume is not pleased.

It was times like these that Uzumaki Red seriously questioned his choice of career. Why he thought going into psychology was a good idea, he didn’t know. He’d once thought it was in hopes of changing the outlook of this shinobi world one troubled operative at a time. But it was getting harder to keep with that goal when faced with uncooperative clients - like Ochimashita Suzume. A certain Otter of Team Ro.

It wasn’t that Suzume was an inherently bad person. On the contrary, he was a decent fellow. Polite enough. Agreeable enough. 

But his blank-faced obliviousness was maddening. 

Red slurped another mouthful of ramen, and then pointed at his client - or, in their current setting, his friend; he was on his lunch break - with his chopsticks. He made sure to swallow before speaking.

“Doesn’t it bother you, though?” he said, shaking his head to rid his field of vision of a long flyaway lock of red hair. “Not having straight answers?”

“You don’t have that problem if you don’t ask stupid questions,” Suzume deadpanned in response.

He sighed. That intentional ignorance, that was what rubbed him the wrong way. “Yes, but what if you were asked to kill someone, a stranger, and nobody told you why. Just ordered you to do it. Wouldn’t that bug you?”

There was a short pause as the sandy-haired blond thought this through. “…No? Because I was aware of the risks when I took the job. That is my job. To take orders. Without question.”

“But how can you rely so surely on somebody else’s judgment? There’s a time and place to concede to authority, but that doesn’t mean you stop having your own thoughts and opinions.” To Red, this was a simple truth. Who, in their right mind, just went along with whatever they were told?

“Thoughts and opinions shouldn’t effect the mission,” said the ANBU, sounding like a parrot repeating a popular phrase. It was tossed around so much among shinobi, one would think that was their ninja way, not protecting the village and its people.

“Even at the risk of your friends? Or the risk of somebody missing something somewhere, and an innocent person getting hurt because of it?”

He stuffed some more noodles into his mouth, rather angrily. But the noodles were a healthier target for his frustration than the person causing it. Suzume watched him with a blank expression.

“My friends are ANBU. They signed up under the same awareness as I did.” He eyed the noodles hanging out of Red’s mouth with distaste. “As for the hypothetical situation… That won’t happen. I’m sure the higher-ups know what they’re doing better than that.”

Red swallowed his food and then banged the butts of his chopsticks on the counter top, making the condiment jars rattle. “There you go again. You put too much stock in those that were put into place over you. Just because they have the power doesn’t make them right.”

“No,” said Suzume, “it makes them in power. And it makes it my duty to follow their orders despite my personal feelings.”

Red sighed. Somehow, all of this made perfect sense in his head, but it wasn’t turning out right at all. “I don’t mean to let emotions rule you; that’s just stupid. But to abandon any and all convictions for the sake of a simple order? You’d sacrifice your humanity so willingly? Without a fight?”

This sent the other man into silence again, and Red felt mildly satisfied with that fact. He took a few more slurps of his lunch while he waited for the response. 

This debate had been going on since the beginning of their monthly evaluation, which started an hour and a half earlier.

As if reading this new train of thought, Suzume scrunched up his nose and replied with his eyes on the counter. “Why are we still talking about this? The session ended twenty three minutes ago. Why am I even here?”

Red pointed to the bowl still sitting in front of him. “Because I bought you lunch.”

“I don’t even like ramen…”

“Too bad. Eat, or you owe me fifty ryo.”

Suzume sighed, and played with his chopsticks instead.

“This shinobi world needs a revolution,” Red continued with his point, determined to make it. “Our operatives have dropped like flies for generations, and only maybe… 60% of those have been due to deaths in battle.”

“You pulled that ‘statistic’ out of the air,” Suzume grumbled. Red ignored him. 

“The rest are thanks to psychological stress resulting from their duties. The way we’ve been raising up ninja is all wrong! And part of it is because we’ve been telling you and you’ve been too willing to just throw away conscious thought and become mindless drones!”

Offense stained the ANBU’s expression, and he folded his arms over his chest. “I’m not a drone.”

“Prove it. Think for yourself.”

“I do!” Suzume stabbed his noodles with a stick. “I think that I’m perfectly fine following the Hokage’s orders. And I think that you’re toeing the line between opinion and treason.”

“Treason?” Red almost choked on his food, coughed a little and hurried to recover himself. He sent the other man an incredulous look. “Are you serious? I have an opinion and I’m not afraid to express it, thank you very much. Forgive me if I hesitate to kill without reason.”

“We have reasons. Sometimes they’re just as simple as doing as we’re told.”

“That’s the point!” Red’s hands waved as he spoke. He caught himself, glanced up at the man behind Ichiraku’s counter, and forced his animated habits down. “It’s not good enough! It’s not good for your mind to let yourself become so, so… blank. Most of us have a personal nindou, but not you lot. You’re not black, you’re not white. You’re an ambiguous grey. You don’t have convictions, and they say it makes you a more effective shinobi, but I think it just destroys what makes you human.”

“But being human isn’t important in ‘this shinobi world’, as you say.” Suzume set his chopsticks down on the counter. “Being a ninja is. My goal isn’t to simply be human. I want to be a shinobi, more specifically an ANBU, and I want to do well as such. I do as I’m ordered. That is my nindou. There’s nothing else to it.” With that, he stood and stepped away from the noodle bar. “I should go. I owe you fifty ryo, okay?” 

That was that. Red knew better than to push it further, especially since as of a half hour ago, he was speaking strictly as a civilian. He wasn’t acting as a psychologist, or a shinobi. For the moment, he was himself and himself alone. That tended to loosen his tongue even more so than usual.

So rather than get in the last word, he sighed and nodded. “Fine. Whatever.”

Otter made his way out like the hounds of Hades were at his ankles. Red, keeping his back turned toward the street outside the shop, waited until his footsteps had faded away.

Then he sipped down the broth from his bowl, and set the heavy dish down with a breath of satisfaction.

“Teuchi…” he started, getting the shop owner’s attention before he braced his elbows on the counter in front of him. “I don’t sound treasonous, do I?”

The middle-aged man rubbed his jaw and ‘hmm’ed while he thought for a short moment. Then he shrugged one shoulder with an air of helpless resignation. “I couldn’t say. The definition of treason varies from person to person.”

“I’m not wrong to think it’s better to let yourself feel, though.” Red played with one of his chopsticks, twirling in between his fingers while he spoke. 

Teuchi gave a rueful chuckle. “You’re asking the wrong person, kid. I just run a noodle shop. I leave ninja business to you ninja.”

Red sighed. He was afraid of that. While he imagined a good number of civilians would agree with his philosophy, it was ridiculously hard to find support among his own peers brandishing the Leaf’s symbol on their hitai-ate. Therefore, it was that much harder to judge whether or not this cause was wrong. He didn’t think it was, wouldn’t say that it was until proven otherwise, but he didn’t like the idea of being willfully ignorant.

Not like Ochimashita.

“You’ve got passion, though,” Teuchi said after a pause. “And I think it’s a worthy goal, whether it’s treasonous or not. Isn’t that what your point was?”

Red nodded slowly. “Everybody has a will that taps directly into their emotions whether they like it or not. The will and the emotions themselves are not what cause the problems. It’s the misuse of it all. That’s what people don’t get.”

“People call that the Will of Fire, don’t they?” Teuchi smiled. “Everybody has one.”

The psychologist frowned at that. That didn’t sound right… “No… No, that’s not it. The Will of Fire is an all-inclusive concept. It’s not to each their own. The Will of Fire is about the good of the Land of Fire and all its inhabitants. The actual good. Not what everybody thinks is good.”

“But what if one person’s idea of what’s actually good for the Land of Fire is different from the next? Haven’t you thought of that?” Teuchi spoke with a paternal curiosity, not any sort of accusation. “And who’s to say what ‘the actual good’ is? You’re encouraging personal conviction, but that’s a variable you can’t predict. Everyone’s personal limits are different.”

This was getting confusing. Red began to shake his head, feeling too many theories and questions flying at his mind at once. It was always so simple until he tried voicing it. Why did people have to complicate things?

“That’s not… That’s not what I mean. I don’t mean let everyone define their own right and wrong. That’s chaos waiting to happen. But… there’s right. And there’s wrong. In our efforts toward security, we can’t blur that line. That will yield the same result.”

Teuchi nodded solemnly, and raised his hand to pose one final question. “And who decides where the line is?”

Red’s frown deepened. He glanced over his shoulder, where his client and friend disappeared. Every time he did this, he risked Morino Ibiki’s wrath by toeing the boundaries of the professional/patient relationship. But the way Ochimashita thought… the way that everybody thought, telling shinobi who dared join the ANBU to embrace their inner darkness, their inner greys… that was wrong, wasn’t it? It was so wrong. 

But who was he to say that? He was just another shinobi, and not much more than a psychiatrist. He hadn’t been on an active field mission in two years. He didn’t have much authority. Just a personal goal.

“I don’t know. I haven’t gotten that far yet.”


	8. Meet Panther

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Mo’s hobby is the best and his psychiatrist is very pleased.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo this is a week late. I forgot to update last week. ; u ; My bad.
> 
> \- P.J.

“You what?” Ishi Shinzo thumped his elbows onto his desk, staring at the client opposite him with something between a glare of disbelief and a grin of surprise. He tried repeating over in his mind what had just been disclosed, and tried matching it up to what he saw before him. 

His client, veteran ANBU Akarui Mo, stood just inside the office door, with an oddly shaped something strapped to his back. This something happened to look an awful lot like an old guitar.

Mo just smiled. “I taught myself how to play the guitar. You told me to find a hobby, so…”

“In a single month?” Shinzo himself had callouses on his fingers from the long hours he spent bowing away at his violin, morning, noon, and night. But this habit had taken 10 of his 23 years to develop and actually succeed. He knew that Mo was skilled, but was he really that skilled?

“I’m not _that_ good yet,” said the older man, stepping further in and making his way to the chair awaiting him across from his psychiatrist. He looped the guitar over his head as he moved to sit down, and rested the instrument - which appeared to be in rather good shape - on his knee. “I didn’t know of anyone who could teach me, so I’ve just been learning by trial and error.”

“Self-taught…” Shinzo tried not to let his disappointment show. Oh, what Mo was doing was fantastic. Taking initiative, picking up an art on his own and using nothing but his wit and imagination. That was all well and good, but what he didn’t appreciate was the fact that his own musical talent had come with the assistance of three different tutors over the years. 

Hours and hours of grueling practice, hearing phrases like ‘keep your elbow firm’ and ‘use your wrist’ again and again and again until his ears rang with them.

“Why don’t you show me some?” he said before his silence stretched on too long. He wouldn’t want to dissuade the man’s ambition with his own petty jealousies - considering that’s really all they were, as much as the thought bothered him.

Mo, smile twitching wider, nodded and turned all his focus to the stringed instrument in his lap. He plucked at a couple of the strings, hitting a sour note here and there before he paused to tune. Adjust a nob here, a nob there, pluck again. He took a moment or two to get the notes ringing true, and then settled in to begin again.

He started right up with a lighthearted 4/4 tempo in B-flat. The chords progressed through a light, easygoing and friendly theme, strummed out with fingers that might as well have been professional with how well they played. Mo delved into the song, momentarily unaware of anything else.

This was the best part. The one Shinzo had been counting on. 

As a shinobi, they tended to see the world at its worst. Criminals and murderers, death, blood, gore, and hopelessness in all shapes and forms. The hatred of the world spilled out for them to see. 

Such dark things took their toll on the mind. Shinzo’s second job as a counsellor was to pick up the pieces that fell from the staggering, wounded shinobi’s professional masks, glue them together, and hand them back. 

It was a cycle of darkness, one that all shinobi shared. A contagion, a virus that spread through these hard-hearted fighters like fire through a dry field. 

But music… The arts in general, Shinzo always believed they had the potential to ease that suffering. There was just something about losing yourself in the universal languages of rhythm, melody, ink stroke and prose that soothed the scars of bloody yesterdays. 

And whether it was a troubled youth like Ishi Shinzo or a lonely, broken veteran like Akarui Mo, music healed. Of that, the former could be no surer. 

And listening to the lilting chords streaming from the strings on the guitar resting on Mo’s knee, Shinzo could scarcely believe his ears, or his eyes. It was such an odd sight, that battle-worn face softened with discreet passion as the melody carried them away.

To think that this big-hearted man was an experienced killer - it was almost sad. Becoming a veteran in the ANBU was both easy and difficult to accomplish - the average life span of a Black Ops shinobi of the Leaf was between 20 and 25. It was the average age of unfortunate death for the elite of the elite, the hardest line of defense and offense in Konoha, the ones who threw away their hearts and humanity for the sake of the Leaf’s way of life.

And here, one of the deadliest of those warriors was sitting across from him in his office, plucking sweet stanzas out on on a six-string. Up and down the frets his left hand jumped, while his right plucked and his eyes closed while he got lost in the chords.

This was remarkable progress, he decided. Fighting a pleased smile, Shinzo jotted down a note on Mo’s accomplishments - not only had he learned the guitar, but as far as Shinzo understood it thanks to the gossip circulating through the Leaf ninja ranks, the 28-year-old shinobi had opened a pet shop in the market district just two weeks ago.

Shinzo could practically see the darkness melting away from his client there in the uncomfortable office chair. And not only did it make the young Ishi proud of himself and of Mo, but it proved that Shinzo’s theory was correct. 

Here… Right here was a man that was the very epitome of what an ANBU needed… and what an ANBU could be.


	9. Meet Badger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The fabulous cherryberry12 asked on the last chapter if I had a list of my OCs and their aliases. To which I had no choice but to reply that indeed I did, but they were horribly outdated and I really ought to update them. And thus, I have begun doing so! And not just a list, but a list with their designs as well. * u * You can find it over on my deviantArt, here: http://fav.me/dcgmxq1
> 
> Eventually, I'll get to complete profiles of all the OCs in this fic, but today is not that day. I'll keep y'all updated!
> 
> As always, thanks for reading! <3
> 
> \- P.J.

Nara Izumi kept her bare arms folded across her bust, over the thick folds of the standard issue olive drab vest, and through a few wayward dreads of blonde that hung in her eyes, kept her dark-eyed glare on her client for the hour. 

She, blessed with the Nara’s inherent sharp wit and keen eye for detail and strategy, was among the top interrogators in T&I, knew her way around peoples’ minds, and very, very little could surprise her anymore. This wasn’t to say nothing could bother her. Plenty bothered her. Mud tracked on clean floors, swindlers who weren’t caught, shinobi willing to double-cross their comrades to save their own skins. 

But at the moment, if she was perfectly honest, there was nothing quite so unsettling as the visage of a person who, for all intents and purposes, didn’t give a crap. 

Such was the expression on Busho Tsuki’s elegant face. Badger of Team Ro was notorious for her poker face, so deep and so etched in every facial muscle, that it completely nullified the natural beauty in the full lips and thick, hooded lashes half-closed over icy blue irises. Such a cold, dead look, the epitome of emotionlessness. This was the face she wore not only to every psych evaluation, but just about every time she left her sparse excuse for an apartment on 2nd Street.

Judging by the permanent fixation of non-enthusiasm, one would be tempted to think the apathy was irreversible. No matter what challenges Izumi threw at her, the expressionless kunoichi remained as such. Like the visages of 4 Hokages carved in the cliff face.

She really shouldn’t have been surprised. But at the same time, she couldn’t help her mounting frustration.

“How about the goldfish?” Izumi said with a pointed hand gesture. “Last month, you got a goldfish like I suggested. Tell me how that went.”

Tsuki reached up a pale hand to scratch at a few locks of her short and unruly ebony pixie cut. Her expression didn’t shift in the least. “Oh, that… Yeah, it died.”

Izumi resisted the urge to yank on her own dreads from the exasperation roiling in her gut. Outwardly, she was the epitome of calm, a testament to her profession. Members of T&I never lost their heads. “Died? How’s that?”

Her client gave a nonchalant shrug. “How should I know? First it was alive, next day, it wasn’t.”

“Well, did you feed it?”

“I was going to,” Tsuki droned in response, “but the food was in the other room when I thought about it. I didn’t want to get it. Then the team had drills to run at the training grounds. I must’ve forgot after that.”

Izumi, with a short hiss of a sigh, rubbed at her mouth whilst swallowing down a few choice vocabulary words. When she finally spoke, a bit of her mood leaked out with the syllables. Perhaps it wasn’t so much of a bad thing though, to let Tsuki know how ridiculous she sounded. “How long did you manage to keep it alive?”

“A week.”

“A week… how many times did you feed it?”

“Um… Once.”

Izumi gave a curt nod and a helpless shrug. “Of course, that would do it.”

Tsuki didn’t seem to process the pointed comments, and just nodded along at her leisure. “Yeah. I don’t think pets are my thing.”

“Oh, no. If I keep assigning you pets, I’ll have every animal activist in Konoha on _both_ our tails.”

Tsuki arced a delicate brow. “Then just tell them to go-”

“I’ll have to get creative, then.” Without grace, Izumi flopped back into her chair, letting her arms drape along the armrests, and swinging her feet to prop up on the desk. She had to think, and think fast. Tsuki’s attention could only be held for so long before she zoned out, deeming the conversation not worth the effort. Such was her way of dealing with the world.

So Izumi needed to keep her pondering short and sweet.

She steepled her fingers, and mused out loud. “Let’s see, what will you be doing…”

Something frivolous was out of the question. Engaging random strangers in light conversation, helping with a charity, substitute teaching, these things required a measure of… well, tact for one. And commitment. And a soul that wasn’t frosted over like an ever-active jutsu had hold of it.

Izumi glanced at the clock. She had three minutes.

“All right, how about this?” Izumi, tilting her head back casually and raising a hand to illustrate. “Pick one person on your team. Doesn’t matter which. And I want you to spend the next month getting to know that person outside of the barracks and missions.”

Tsuki’s lip twitched. Izumi knew and translated that hint of expression as ‘ugh effort’.

Still, the counselor plowed on. “I’m talking about casual interaction here, Busho. Walks, trips to Ichiraku’s, movie nights, whatever. We’re going to work on your nonexistent nurturing instinct.”

It took a short second, but the ANBU in question managed to school her expression back into indifference. “If it’s nonexistent, then why do we need to work on it?”

Izumi clenched her calloused fingers into dual fists, and forced a grin. “We’ve talked about you nitpicking my word choices, haven’t we Tsuki?” She kept her voice sickly sweet. If she didn’t, she’d be snarling. “So drop it. Or I’ll assign you community service again. You’ll be picking trash out of the gutters for the next month.”

Finally, with the most expression Tsuki had shown the entire session, she wrinkled her nose in distasted. It was a fleeting gesture, and only lasted a handful of seconds before she deflated with a sigh that her psychologist took as resignation. “Fine,” said the kunoichi, closing her eyes to convey her weariness on the subject. 

Izumi glanced at the clock again, at the same time, trying to simmer down her irritation. It was such a difficult task with certain people… “Pick someone quick. We have one minute.”

When Busho Tsuki went to her inward thinking place, there were times that Izumi got genuinely concerned for her charge. She would dive so deep into her subconscious, with that same flatline expression on her face, and she would remain that way, utterly silent, for inhuman amounts of time. What was worse was that Tsuki rarely shared what went on in that place in her mind. Even when Izumi asked, she would outright refuse. Her usual explanations were ‘it’s too complicated (subtext ‘not worth the effort’)’ or ‘I don’t feel like it’. 

Thankfully, Tsuki managed to keep it short today. With twenty seconds left on the clock, she snapped out of her in-depth contemplation and gave a short huff, like she’d been literally diving into murky, watery depths.

“Tenzo.”

Izumi nodded. “Good.”

“Or Kakashi-taichou.”

Izumi deflated. “What? Come on, Tsuki…”

“I can’t choose on the spot. I need to think. I’ve narrowed it down to two for you. It’s so you can have other ANBU keep tabs on this assignment, right?”

Izumi maintained eye contact, but any action at this point would’ve proven Tsuki’s deduction. Despite her languid exterior, Busho Tsuki was no ditz. She had a mind like a steel vice and when put to use, its teeth proved razor sharp.

Tsuki nodded in response. “There. So, now you have two targets. It won’t be hard to figure out which one I go with through surveillance.”

The clock struck 5. Both women looked up at it, Tsuki with dispassion, and Izumi with aggravation. Their time was up. And Izumi didn’t feel so good about that. But did she ever? 

“We didn’t get to talk about the incident,” Izumi said quickly, while her client stood from her seat.

“What’s there to talk about?” Tsuki stretched, scratched the back of her head and cracked her back once or twice before sagging into her usual slouch. 

Izumi shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know, the nightmares, the trust issues, all the usual stuff.”

“You mean the stuff we talk about every other evaluation.”

“Yes.”

Tsuki shook her head, and started to shuffle toward the door. “What a pain.”

“We’ll talk about it next time.”

“Yippee.”

“Tsuki.”

The ANBU paused with her hand on the doorknob, and glanced over her shoulder with a blatant lack of interest. 

Izumi made sure her gaze spoke of how much she meant what she was about to say. She sat up, put her feet on the floor where they belonged, and braced her elbows on the desk top. “Hatake Kakashi, Tenzo… I don’t know them personally, but they’re trustworthy.”

Tsuki’s face remained the same marble sculpture it almost always was. 

“They’re men,” she stated, twisting the knob. “We’ll see.”

With that, she exited, leaving her counselor behind to shake her head in disappointment.

Nara Izumi had seen a lot of people come and go through her office. Angry people, depressed people, broken people. But there was nothing quite so unsettling as the visage of a person who, for all intents and purposes, didn’t care at all.

Especially when they didn’t start out that way.


	10. Meet Frog

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Frog rambles, and the poor psychiatrist can’t get a word in edgewise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> eyoooo, a chapter on time for once...
> 
> Figures that the week I'm late on my Sick Boy chapter is the one where I'm actually on time with ATMC... i just can't win.
> 
> anyway. Last OC introductory oneshot, and then it's on to some Tenzo. <3
> 
> \- P.J.

“So then I stood up from the table and took five steps over to the sink. I put my bowl in first, and then my spoon, and then I turned on the water - to rinse them out, you know, before I washed them. I waited, like, 37 seconds for the water to get hot. I put the plug in, squirted in a little soap, and while it was filling, I had to dig through my other dishes to find the freakin’ sponge. Stupid thing got buried.”

“Yes-”

“Then I finally found it and decided to wash my bowl first. Bigger dishes are easier to get out of the way. After the bowl, I moved on to one of the ten pans in the other side of the sink - my sink has two basins in it, one for washing, one for rinsing. I use them backwards just for kicks.”

“Yaseino-san-”

“I spent five minutes scrubbing that pan. That takes me to about 7:55 in the morning. Then I pick up _another_ pan-“

“Yaseino-san!”

“That one took me 7 minutes!”

No matter how many times Hinji Urusai objected, the ANBU refused to listen. It was no small wonder that his last psychiatrist retired so suddenly! Was the boy like this all the time? What with the rambling and the henge he refused to put down and the devil-may-care attitude… He didn’t know how his sanity would stand it.

“When I said ‘everything that’s happened since your last session’, I didn’t really mean-“

“It had all this crusty burnt Shogayaki sauce - ‘cause I’d had that three nights before, like I told you earlier - and I had to use a knife to scrape most of it off. I really should have soaked it or something. Anyway, I finished that one and set it in the drainer and then grabbed another one - this was the one that I used to make that roasted eggplant recipe I got from Kakashi-taichou. The one I burned to a crisp because I forgot about it? Yeah, that one.”

Urusai kneaded his temple, willing away the mounting headache. This teenager had rambled on like this for 50 minutes straight! Ever since he’d opened his mouth to ask what had gone on since his last evaluation… This was Urusai’s first session with Yaseino Hana, after his previous analyst, old Naya Ganjo, finally retired. Said he was getting old - at 62, he wasn’t kidding. But Urusai couldn’t help but wonder if this talkative boy was real the reason why. It was certainly making him consider retirement, and he was only 33.

“Oh, hey!” Hana’s rambling finally came to a halt. He was staring up at the wall over Urusai’s head. Where the clock was. “Look’s like we’re over time. Listen, Hinji-san, I’m sorry for going so far over!”

Urusai glanced at the clock himself. Indeed, the session had gone over - by six and a half minutes. He resisted the urge to send the young ANBU operative a glare. He knew. Oh, he _knew_. And he was mocking his pain.

The cheeky grin that the young man gave him then only proved his theory right. All that ceaseless nonsense, that constant chatter, it was a plan enacted, fully intentional and fully aware of its purpose. After all, if Yaseino could blabber on for an hour straight, then there was no time for other questions.

Still, he had other clients waiting. He and the rest of the T&I staff were tasked with evaluating each and every Leaf ANBU operative this week, and so they couldn’t afford to spend more time than they needed on one single person.

His pen trembled in his tense hand. Urusai gave a stiff nod to his current client. “It’s… no trouble. I should have noticed. You are dismissed.”

“Thanks!” said the boy with far too much gusto. He jumped to his feet, and gave a casual stretch of his arms toward the ceiling. “I’ll have to fill you in on the last two weeks next time.”

“Uh… that won’t be necessary.” Urusai forced a smile. “We’ll find something else to discuss.”

The boy shrugged. “Whatever.” Then he stuffed his hands into his pockets, turned on his heel, and marched out of the office. When he thought his back was turned far enough, Urusai spotted the grin on his face turning wicked.

Oh yes. That boy was a hellion. It was certain now.

Urusai then turned to examine his own chaotic notes that he’d managed to scribble down during his hour of torture. Mostly an incoherent mess, but he figured that best summed up the experience. ‘ _Uncooperative_ ,’ ‘ _selective hearing_ ,’ ‘ _willfully ignorant_ ,’ and ‘ _ignores any and all attempts at deeper conversation_ ’ were the main threads, along with several reiterations that this constant rabbit-trailing was intentional.

What a nightmare. Why were all ANBU operatives like this?

He wondered if it was worth it. He imagined Morino Ibiki’s stern, disapproving face, and mentally backtracked.

No. Hinji Urusai was a shinobi of the Leaf. He’d faced many, many greater obstacles. He would just have to endure this latest one with steadfast tenacity. He could do this.

He imagined Yaseino Hana’s impish little grin, cackling away in subtext as the real one yammered on and on and on and on and on and on and…

Urusai dropped his head to the table with a rather hard _thump_. Who was he kidding? This was going to be his toughest client yet.


	11. Boys Will Be Boys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tenzo is on his nightly patrol and happens to spot Umino Iruka on his way out of the village. With the orders to report any strange activity, what is a dutiful ANBU to do but follow?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so I apparently gave the previous chapter the wrong title. whoops. 
> 
> 'tis fixed now.
> 
> \- P.J.

Nighttime over Konohagakure was one of the greatest sights in all the Land of Fire. From the outer wall, away from the nighttime streetlights, one could see the endless sea of stars above, hear the soothing chirp of hundreds of crickets and nocturnal frogs, and occasionally, the haunting hoot or sinister shriek of an howl. With the evening bustle of the village behind him, Tenzo was free to enjoy nature in one of its most poignant points. 

Granted, he couldn’t allow it to distract him from his patrol, but he could enjoy it nonetheless, as he circled the Leaf’s perimeter in solitude. 

The moon shone particularly bright this night, despite being a waning gibbon, less than half there. Tenzo found shadows along his route to keep out of its exposing light; his bone-white jacket and armguards would illuminate far too easily in this sort of light. One of the downsides to being ANBU. At least it kept oneself aware of the surroundings, lighting in particular. 

Walking along the outside of the wall in a stretch of shadow, using chakra to keep him steady and horizontal as he went, he soon came upon the main gate, the village entrance. It’s gates stood open, as usual, and the nightguards were outside their guardhouse, looking quite alert. They seemed to be calling after something. Tenzo, being yet too far, couldn’t make out their words, only the direction they were staring. Directly down the road leading outside the village.

He paused in his route and followed their gazes, across the deep forest shadows and into the open road, where he could barely make out a single set of new footprints. At their head marched a single shinobi - a young one at that. He still looked caught in the awkward gangliness of late adolescence. Perhaps mid-teens. He had dark hair fastened in a high-set ponytail, messy bangs spilling over the front of a hitai-ate, and wore the standard issue green flak jacket over a short-sleeved shirt and pants of a light tan color that practically glowed in the night’s light. Likely a chuunin. He carried an armful of white fabric, and seemed to be in quite the hurry.

Now, Tenzo had been told to report anything of suspicion or oddity. This was certainly odd, but the gatekeepers didn’t seem concerned - at least, not for any danger. They didn’t follow after the young ninja; only watched him go.

But, these were Tenzo’s orders. If he considered it strange, there was a chance he was expected to investigate, even with a simple tail. 

Gathering his chakra, he leapt from his place on the wall and began vaulting through the trees. He concealed his presence as well; no need to alert the Leaf nin that he had a follower. At least not yet. Through the boughs he traversed, keeping his senses outstretched so as not to lose his quarry. He maneuvered to a place in the trees where he could see the road more clearly, and spotted the chuunin not ten paces to his left, still going strong on his way. 

Tenzo managed to get a glimpse of his face, and noted a crisp, identifiable scar across his nose. 

 _Umino-san?_  he thought to himself with a small frown. What was the assistant teacher doing out here at such a late hour? Shouldn’t he have been home already?

About a mile from the village gates, Iruka made a sharp and sudden right turn, into the trees just ahead of Tenzo. He lost sight of the chuunin amidst the thick foliage, and had to pick up his pace so he could catch a visual again.

“Where are you going?” Tenzo muttered to himself, watching as Iruka vaulted over brush and fallen logs before resorting to the tree tops for travel himself. The ANBU, still keeping his presence a secret, followed at a distance of at least 12 yards at all times. 

At a small break in the canopy, Iruka paused, right in a shaft of silver light that streamed through the leaves - nature’s spotlight. Tenzo froze where he was, about to pounce off one branch to the next. Upping the precision of his chakra, he managed to stay still. 

Iruka whirled on his toes, and once Tenzo got a decent look at his face in the light, he could make out beads of sweat on the other teen’s forehead, and a rather frightened expression on his face.

“I know you’re out there!” Iruka declared, searching the forest with his gaze, eyes wide and darting. “Show yourself!”

Tenzo stiffened, and subconsciously held his breath. How could the chuunin have detected him? He was concealing his presence! What would that say of his skill, if a mere paperwork ninja could sense him despite his ANBU-level masking technique?

After another moment of tense silence, Iruka glanced over his shoulder in the direction he’d been heading, a bit of worry needling its way onto his features before he turned again and continued in his sprint. He seemed to be heading for the bluffs that formed the majestic backdrop to the Leaf Village’s cityscape.

He found himself a little concerned at the chuunin’s behavior himself, and grew more concerned by the minute. Tenzo followed the young Umino, daring to move a little bit closer to his target so as to eliminate all chances of losing him. Iruka stuck to a worn old trail that weaved with the land and followed a steady incline up toward one of the crests that overlooked Konoha.

As they went, Tenzo caught sight of a silhouette standing out against the midnight navy sky - a tall one, outlined in white by the moon’s rays. Then he realized where Iruka was headed. 

The old Saishu historical site. 

But why would Iruka go there at this time of night? And why was he so worried, in such a hurry to get there? Tenzo didn’t know the other boy well at all, and therefore couldn’t be sure what would upset the chuunin so. So he kept his pace light and even, determined to find an answer or two, and maybe even something to report.

The old Saishu outpost had stood on these bluffs as a remainder of an old lookout system from the days before hidden villages. It was the last of its kind, all of the others having been demolished, or simply rotted away, crumbled by the forces of weather over the decades. It had been a historical site for as long as most shinobi could remember, and remained so even now, despite being a quarantined area.

Not so long ago, a blast was said to have been felt all the way across the village, resonating from the outpost. Squads of jounin and ANBU had been sent in to investigate, and they’d found multiple signs of illegal experimentation, said to be Orochimaru’s, as well as a strange chakra-based residue that wafted through the air like a cloud, seeping into walls, floors, ceilings, clothes. All ninja present had reported a strange weighty feeling in their chakra networks, particularly in their extremities.

Due to dangerous lasting effects, the site had been closed off to the public and labeled toxic, not to be approached. 

But Iruka was approaching. And Tenzo got the feeling he wouldn’t be stopping at the gate. Now that he looked, there was a good chance that cloth he carried was a hazmat suit.

The trail led to a steady incline that soon hugged the side of a bluff, an old railing in place to keep the visitors that would’ve once migrated up the path secure and safe. Iruka never once hesitated in his steps, after that brief incident in the woods. He kept his eyes forward, and if anything, seemed to pick up his pace the closer he got to the old tower.

Tenzo, limited to running across the stone wall a ways above Iruka’s head, kept his footfalls utterly silent and continued to conceal his presence, as little good as that seemed to do him.

Shortly, they came upon an old chain-link gate, rusted in the corners and sporting a big red and yellow sign that broadcast its message clearly even in the dark.

 _**HAZARD** _  
_Do Not Enter_  
_Radioactive Area_

The icon of a skull and crossbones was a nice, convincing touch. 

But Iruka seemed to discard the sign and, without even bothering with the gate, climbed up and over the fence to land solidly on the opposite side.

Now was probably a good time to do something, Tenzo decided. He let himself drop, alighting on the ground outside the old gate. The sound of his feet impacting the dust made Iruka jump, and he turned around just as Tenzo released the mask on his presence.

Iruka frowned through the darkness and the chain-link fence. “I  _knew_  somebody was following me!”

“Umino-san,” Tenzo replied with as much authority as he could muster, “this place is off limits. I’ll need you to vacate the area immediately.”

Iruka stared at him long and hard. Despite wearing his mask, Tenzo suddenly felt very uncomfortable. Why did this kid have to stare like that?

“Cat-san?” Iruka used his codename, which had been the only thing Tenzo had given him upon their introductory meeting. “Is that you?”

Tenzo didn’t see the harm in answering that. He nodded. “Yes. Now, Umino-san, if you please-”

Iruka cut him off, his previous worry returning and flooding into his voice. “You don’t understand. Two of my students are up there!”

This gave Tenzo pause, and quite quickly, the gravity of this situation hit him. If what Iruka said was true, those kids could be in real trouble.  _Oh, brother…_

“How do you know?” Tenzo asked.

Iruka was already wrestling with the hazmat suit to put it on. As he did so, Tenzo realized he was carrying three in total - one for himself, and two more for the students. “I can tell you, but if you really want to know, you’ll have to follow me. I’ll explain on the way up there.”

Tenzo looked ahead. The outpost loomed about 60 yards further up the incline, a massive stone tower built partly into the face of the bluff and rising to stand even higher than its top. Ivy crisscrossed up the old stone walls, and sections of those walls seemed to have caved in long ago. Overall, it looked quite the intimidating and precarious location.

And Iruka, clad now from head to toe in the heavy hazard suit, was already sprinting for it.

With a weary sigh and a quick apology to the heavens, Tenzo flashed over the gate and made a run for his fellow ninja, catching up without much effort.

“Explain,” he said, and Iruka nodded beside him.

“One of the parents for the class I help teach came to the school this evening, looking for his sons - Hotaru Asa, who’s in my class, and his little brother Aki. I happened to be working late, so I was there to tell him that Asa had left the school at the same time as his class. He said that both boys had been gone all evening.”

Iruka paused to watch his feet as they made their mad dash up the incline. “It didn’t take me long to figure out where they would’ve gone. We went on a field trip to see the nearby historical sites for class today. I should’ve known by the looks on those boys’ faces that one of them would get into trouble once they were out for the day. I should’ve made sure!”

“This doesn’t seem like the sort of thing you could’ve prevented,” Tenzo assured him. “You must’ve pointed out the dangers of this area to them on the tour, right?”

“Yes…”

“Then they knew better. You can’t say it was your fault.”

The outpost loomed near, and Iruka didn’t bother to continue the conversation. Tenzo slowed down to an eventual stop about twenty yards from the building, hesitant to go any closer. Who knew how widespread the radiation was at this point? And he had no hazmat.

Iruka glanced over his shoulder when the ANBU's presence fell back, but didn’t say anything to try and convince him to follow. The dark-haired chuunin finally slowed as he approached the main door, which hung open on one hinge, the other rusted and rotting the wood around it. He reached out for it, and then hesitated for a long moment. Then he glanced over his shoulder at the ANBU waiting behind him.

“If I’m not back with them in five minutes, get help.”

As much as he didn’t like the idea of the situation requiring such action, Tenzo nodded. It was the least he could do at this point. “Of course.”

With a return nod in affirmative, Iruka turned his attention back to the door and took a single step over its askew corpse. “Asa! Aki! Are you in there?”

Tenzo could scarcely make out the distance squeak of youthful, high-pitched voices crying out in response, in distress. At the mournful replies, Iruka threw caution to the wind and threw himself inside at a run.

A sickening crash followed within seconds. Tenzo jumped. “What the-!?”

Dust poured from the entrance to the tower, and only billowed further with each concurrent impact. It sounded like something - a lot of something - had fallen the moment Iruka stepped foot inside.

“Umino!” he shouted, hoping for a reply. “Umino, you all right?”

No response.

Tenzo gulped. It was quite possible that the chuunin had gotten himself hurt now. Which meant… 

“Iruka!” he shouted again, one last try.  _Answer, you fool…_

Silence remained his only reply, and this meant something else was wrong. Which meant that that it was Tenzo’s turn to act. As if he would just stand there, fully aware that there could be at least three injured young shinobi on his hands.

He had no hazmat, and he really hadn’t planned on getting himself infected by a highly versatile contagion, but what was an ANBU to do?

Tenzo gave a quiet moan of reluctance, and glanced up at the stars. “Forgive me, senpai; I won’t be going on missions again for a while…”

With that said, he dashed for the ominous door, which looked now like a gaping black mouth leading into the belly of a beast. He would approach with more care than the frantic Umino, and so slowed as he came to the threshold. The dust that wafted in his face smelled like rot and old wood. Thankful for his mask for the moment, Tenzo peered his head inside and waited a moment or two for his vision to adjust to the deeper shadows waiting inside. 

“Oh boy,” he mumbled as things became clearer.

The entirety of the main floor appeared to have caved in. Splintered wood lay scattered everywhere all along what looked like a wide, open basement chamber; the sight looked as though some giant had come and stuck their foot through the original floor. The dust created a thick haze that kept Tenzo from seeing every detail, but as he scanned the wreckage, he spotted a huddled form of white among the many shades of brown and grey.

“Umino!” he blurted. His voice carried high above him, up the great tower, swirling and ricochetting off the circular walls before coming right back to him.

Below, the fallen figure groaned, beginning to stir. His movement sent bits and stacks of splinters a-tumbling around him, and he stopped, holding himself very still, propped up on his elbows.

“I’m all right,” Iruka called back, voice rough as he fought to recover his breath. “I think…” With minimal movement, Tenzo assumed he did a quick self-assessment. After a short moment, the chuunin gave a quiet hiss.

“What?” Tenzo took the next step inside, standing on the edge of the threshold, the sudden drop a mere few inches from his toes. “What’s wrong?”

“My… A splinter’s lodged in my leg. A big one. Ah…”

Great. The assistant teacher had gotten himself stabbed by a highly-toxic piece of wood. That couldn’t be good… Tenzo, preparing himself, gathered chakra in his feet and then picked his way down into the ruined basement, avoiding a straight jump so as not to disturb any precarious pitfalls or jeopardize Iruka’s position. Who knew how fragile the wreckage was, and Tenzo wasn’t going to be the one to find out and get all of them hurt more than they were.

The moment his feet touched the floor, he felt a strange weight on his body. Like the air was denser, thicker, heavier. It didn’t seem to effect the ease of breathing, but by the strange suction sensation on his hands and feet, Tenzo didn’t doubt that this was the radiation doing some sort of invisible harm. He could feel it in his chakra network, quite literally. Like a syphoning hose in a bucket. The sooner they got out of there, the better.

“Iruka-sensei!” came an echoing call from nearby, drawing Tenzo’s attention to a large open entrance to a passageway he hadn’t noticed before. It looked like some sort of tunnel.

That was right! Back during the fallout, the explosion had made the tunnel network shake, which is why the whole village felt it. After the authorities discovered the toxicity levels, they sealed off every tunnel. If the brats were back there, they’d likely met a dead end.

“Iruka-sensei!” they cried again. It sounded like three voices. “Sensei, are you okay!?”

Iruka gave a short, pained sigh, dragging himself up where he was until he was sitting on his ankles. With a glance, Tenzo could see what he’d been talking about. A large dagger of wood - 9 inches in length, at least, and 3 inches round - impaled his thigh right through the hazmat at an angle, like he’d fallen right on it when the floor collapsed. Iruka’s fingers hovered around it, as if he wanted to remove it but hesitated to do so.

“I’m fine!” the chuunin lied to his students. “What about you? Who’s down there?”

“Me, Asa!” came one voice, a mellow but boyish one. “And Koromi and Aki too!”

The chuunin’s face went suddenly very pale. Whether this was from the blood he was losing, or the radiation, or this new revelation, Tenzo couldn’t tell. But he did know one thing: there were only two good hazmats left.

“Komori’s here too?” Iruka swallowed, and with a wince, began hoisting himself to his feet.

“Yeah!” came a second voice, higher and more nasal. “We were just gonna look around - honest!”

“You boys better come out here,” said Tenzo, while forming a quick hand sign to summon a pillar of wood to help support the scarred boy to his left. Iruka seemed caught off guard initially, until he realized the source of his new aid and cast Tenzo a brief look of gratitude.

“Eh?” said the second voice in confusion. “Who’s that?”

“Just get over here!” Iruka snapped, and his expression spoke clearly that he would take no more dillydally. Tenzo couldn’t blame him. Who knew how long these kids had been down here, and as adults, he and Iruka had been down too long already. This certainly meant at least a day or two in the quarantine wing.

The scitter of little feet on hard earth pattered through the dense atmosphere, and within seconds, three small forms tumbled into the main room where the older shinobi waited. Two heads brown, one head blond. All boys. The two most certainly were related, and could be none other than Hotaru Asa and Aki - the ones who started the whole mess, and apparently brought a friend along for the ride.

“Whoa, it’s dark out already,” said the blond, who had to be Komori, as he stared up at the sky that was visible through the open door above their heads.

“You bet it’s dark!” Iruka scolded, despite his wounded state. Tenzo raised his eyebrows, but stayed quiet. It wasn’t his place to say anything now; he was no school teacher. He was ANBU. He was just the backup. “And your parents were worried sick when you didn’t show up at home after class! They’ve been looking all over for you! And Asa - how could you bring your little brother here? I told you that this place was dangerous even for adults!”

Asa, the brunette with larger, darker eyes, had the decency to duck his head and look abashed, if not a little startled at the vehement rebuke. “I-I’m sorry… We didn’t mean to stay so long! I promise!”

“‘Ruka-sensei, my feet hurt…” mumbled the littlest boy, who leaned on his older brother’s side and clung to his shirt tail, eyelids heavy from the late hour, or perhaps from something more detrimental.

Iruka’s expression became both soft and even more anxious with a subtle smoothing of his brow, and he held out a hand. Tenzo could see his fingers shaking even in the dim lighting. “Do they? Come here, let me see…”

“As much as we all need it, I think we should save the physical assessment for the medics.” Tenzo glanced up at the waiting door, and then back at the others present. “We should get out of here as soon as possible.”

Aki had toddled over to Iruka as the Wood user spoke, and was now hugging his uninjured leg. Iruka, mildly distracted by the small child’s lethargic condition, managed a curt nod. “Right. Can you help us?”

“Of course.” Tenzo clapped his hands together in the familiar, simple sign. He felt the chakra pulse to his left arm and, stretching it out toward his new charges, released his handy wooden tentacles. They slithered through the air, one to each other young ninja present, and very gently coiled about their waists. Tenzo took great care in hoisting them up, aiming for quickest exit with least discomfort, doubling the chakra in his shoulder to compensate for the added weight. After all, he would need to carry at least one of these four across the village to the hospital. And more likely than not, more than one. 

He didn’t trust the older students, Asa and Komori, not to run off and start touching things with their radiation-wreaked hands and feet. This trip needed to be quick and painless. And Aki, Tenzo wondered how long the child could even stay upright at this point. He didn’t look good in the least.

Up they went, secure in his wood style, and one at a time, he eased them through the doorway out into the crisp, clean night air. Relatively clean, anyway. Cleaner than in this rotting old pit. Only when he was sure he had them securely out did he close his eyes, concentrate, and split a few roots off of his wooden tendrils. He couldn’t see what the result was, but he knew which way was up, and he knew he needed a solid hold of the surface in order to pull himself out without dropping them all. He forced more chakra through the veins that ran like streams of rainwater through the wood, felt it falter, and frowned.

_What was that?_

No time. He felt his roots hit earth and plunged them in like needles into a seam. Down, down he reached them, getting a solid hold before initializing the retraction at his shoulder. With the wood absorbing back into his body, shortening itself, physics pulled him up, off the sooty old floor and into open air for a brief second. Without the sensation of supporting his own weight, Tenzo detected an odd burning sensation along his toes.

This definitely wasn’t normal. Was it an effect of the radiation? Could it be what Aki had been complaining about? To think, Tenzo had only subjected himself to the toxic atmosphere for a mere 5 minutes. These boys had wandered about down there for what was likely hours.

He feared what damage was possibly already done.

“Who are you, mister?” blurted Komori as soon as Tenzo emerged from the depths of the old, abandoned outpost.

Tenzo, pretending not to hear, set his feet back on solid ground and unrooted his wood with quiet deliberation. Mentally, he ran through different routes that he could take to reach the hospital with the least amount of trouble. Three discarded and one finally chosen, the ANBU hoisted the four back up, took a deep breath behind his mask, and set off at a sprint. 

At least it was all downhill.

* * *

“Mr. and Mrs. Hotaru got everything settled,” explained the doe-eyed nurse all wrapped up in protective gear, who had spent the majority of the last thirty minutes ruffling her russet hair and casting Tenzo some of the strangest looks, all the while keeping up steady conversation. To someone like Tenzo, who could scarcely figure out what to say to people half the time and limited himself to giving and taking orders the other half, this skill was a feat in and of itself. Certainly not one he’d be mastering any time soon. Though, he could do without the hooded glances and half-obnoxious guffawing at every attempt he made to lighten Umino Iruka’s mood.

The nurse - introduced as Kyou - double and triple checked their IVs and fiddled with this monitor or that for a few minutes before offering them a broad, cheery smile. “The boys will be staying in quarantine in the children’s ward for a while, but after a few days, they’ll be good as new.”

“So,” Iruka began, still retaining the same mournful look he’d had behind his dark brown eyes since Tenzo first encountered him several hours ago, “they’ll be all right? I mean, there were no lasting effects from the negative chakra residue?”

The nurse’s smile dimmed ever so slightly, making a twinge of disappointment sink through Tenzo’s chest. 

“Well…” she began, dropping a bit of the falsely optimistic facade - refreshing, to say the least. “The little one… Aki, we had some trouble with his hands and especially his feet… But we’re calling in an expert. We’re hoping she can be of some help.”

“Hoping…” Iruka repeated, deflating where he sat on his gurney. “I see… His paths were damaged that badly?”

Kyou seemed to mentally backtrack once she realized she’d upset the young Umino. As if it would make everything better, she plastered that beaming smile over her face again and held up her hands. “No need to sound so hopeless, now. Tsunade of the Sannin is the best medic in the Land of Fire. I’m sure she’ll figure something out.”

“Right…”

Tenzo remained quiet, observing while the mostly one-sided exchange took place. Once it became obvious to her that such forced comfort would do her second patient no good, she cast an awkward glance between the two shinobi, and without another cheery word, she bowed, turned with a inaudible excuse, and bustled out of the room. Tenzo got a brief glimpse of the vacant hall beyond the door, where it led on for seemingly endless yards until he could no longer make out details of the walls. Then the door closed, and plunged the two into isolation once more.

The quarantine wing. One of the loneliest places in the Leaf.

Tenzo had seen worse.

He glanced sidelong at his companion, only to find the latter still staring at the creases in his palms like they held all the answers to all his unspoken questions. All equipment and standard issue garb had been stripped away from them, leaving them in flimsy hospital robes and leaving Tenzo maskless. He didn’t even have his faceguard, and his head felt so light and unprotected without it. 

Still, it meant that reading expressions could now go two ways. Iruka had spent a small portion of their induced solitary confinement trying to glance at Tenzo’s face without being conspicuous. Such a tactic didn’t work on an ANBU operative, previously from the Foundation, but Tenzo humored him anyway and pretended not to notice. 

Ignoring it had proved the best tactic to get him to stop. Because while it was initially amusing, Tenzo could only stand so long under that deep stare that felt like Iruka was trying to solve the puzzle of your soul without you knowing. 

Speaking up wasn’t the ideal option, because it would likely mean subjecting himself to that stare again. But not speaking up felt wrong somehow. Insensitive.

“She has a point,” Tenzo found himself saying without really meaning to.

Iruka glanced up, blinking away a sheen from his eyes. “Hm?”

“The nurse. She has a point. Don’t count those boys out quite yet.”

“Oh…” Iruka’s gaze returned to his hands, even grimmer than before. He waited a decent amount of time before speaking, so much so that Tenzo began to wonder if he’d understood what he said at all. Or perhaps he’d understood right away and needed no further conversation on the subject. 

When the Umino finally did say something more, it was quiet and hesitant and Tenzo had to give him all his attention just to catch all his words. “Do you… Do you know what that negative chakra residue does?”

Tenzo did. It had been a long while since he learned the tidbit of information, but he’d remembered not long after being admitted to the hospital. 

The chakra residue that permeated the area in and around Saishu was said to be dangerously imbalanced. Supposedly, according to old reports, this negative chakra field discreetly absorbed into the skin of anyone who dared enter its domain, seeking, seeking for a balance for itself in the form of other chakra sources. This resulted in the syphoning of energy from any shinobi who set foot in the tower or the tunnels beneath it. The forced removal damaged the functioning chakra pathways in the source, particularly the hands and feet. Such damage, left undiscovered and untreated for extended periods of time, could become permanent.

“Yes, I know,” said the Wood Style user, a tad more subdued and understandably so. He could now guess what Iruka had been mulling over for the last hour or more.

A child’s hand was so much smaller and frailer than an adults…

“I should’ve…” Iruka hesitated, wincing like he hadn’t meant to say that. Maybe he hadn’t. Or maybe he was just rethinking the decision to speak at all. “I should never have taken them on that field trip. Aki’s career as a ninja could be forfeit, now.”

“Was the field trip your idea?” Tenzo asked with genuine interest.

Iruka scratched at his scar. “Well, no…” 

“Did you explain the dangers of going near the Saishu site?”

“Yes, of course I did.”

“Then how is this in any way your fault?”

Iruka avoided eye contact then and Tenzo could only hope that it was due to the chuunin actually taking his words into consideration. It wasn’t difficult logic to grasp. Tenzo wondered if Umino Iruka just had that ridiculous habit of placing guilt on his shoulders for things generally outside of his control, similar to a certain Hatake that Tenzo knew. 

They fell into a strangely comfortable silence, despite Iruka’s obvious internal agonizing, for the longest of times. Tenzo listened to the howl of the wind across the roof, the quiet, lulling bustle of medical staff outside their door, and if he concentrated enough, he could even make out the sounds of nocturnal nature somewhere far beyond the walls of this hospital. Still awake and alive, still very present.

There was something oddly comforting about that.

The door to their room swung open inward, and in waddled a lone figure trussed up in a puffy hazmat of their own. Standard procedure, required by any non-medical individuals who wanted to enter one of the quarantine rooms. Tenzo frowned a little, wondering who could be visiting them at this hour. One of the boys’ parents? Surely not. Why would they visit him and Iruka when they could be spending this crucial time with their sons?

But no, a single glance at the face behind the visor let Tenzo know that this person was here for them. Specifically, him. 

The visitor stood still just inside the room, long enough for the door to swing shut on its own behind him. Then, with a dramatic sag, he withered and groaned. “I hate this.”

“Kakashi-senpai,” he greeted the white-clad cyclops with a hint of surprise. What hour of the night was it now? Surely, it had to be midnight or beyond. “What are you doing here at this hour?”

Kakashi managed to offer his signature crescent-eye, which symbolized his smile. “Well, I just happened to be up reading when Panther showed up to notify me of your little escapade at Saishu. I came to offer my subordinate what support I could.”

“How considerate of you…” Tenzo, smirk growing on his face, eyed the hazmat, which looked ridiculously large on the older shinobi. He had to wonder what they were thinking, giving him one that large. Perhaps they were short on stock.  _But that sounds silly…_  “Nice getup.”

“I could say the same to you.”

That brought a rebellious blush to his face, and he avoided looking at that arrogant smirk by glancing toward Iruka, who seemed to have risen out of his funk just enough to stare at the elite jounin with a hint of wonder.

Then Tenzo recovered himself and cleared his throat in an attempt to brush off the embarrassment. “What reading material could’ve had you so interested that you st- Oh. Oh, no. I take that back; don’t tell me.”

Kakashi’s grin, ever hidden behind the mask that never came off, grew even wider. “Oh, Tenzo, let me tell you. It’s such a fantastic read. I can hardly put it down. I’d even considered bringing you a copy to help pass the time in isolation.”

“Bring it in here, and I hope they have to burn it.”

“Never mind, then.”


	12. Left

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kakashi is reminded why Mo-senpai is the best of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AT LAST. I get to update this thing. This one installment per week thing is much easier on my sanity... TuT
> 
> -P.J.

Who would’ve thought an ANBU operative could own a _pet shop_?

Kakashi was never one to stereotype, but the idea of a seasoned killer and stealth operative owning and running a small domestic business certainly didn’t fit most paths of deduction. Most ANBU agents had a hard enough time functioning at all off the field—they simply didn’t know what to do with themselves if they weren’t taking missions, completing missions, or filing reports about missions—let alone concocting a place where one interacted with the average Jo on a daily basis.

And yet, the Copy Nin found himself meandering the lively streets of Konoha in search of a particular shop he’d only recently learned of—a certain _Sasaina Koto_ , nestled in the rougher part of the business district. The area of peeling paint, sagging porches, and cracked foundations. This was the area left behind by progress and development, with few willing to put any funds toward improvement, but even fewer willing to simply tear down and start over. Some people just had a certain appreciation for the ancient, outdated, and abandoned.

“Are you sure we’re in the right neighborhood, taichou?”

Kakashi pulled his gaze from the lopsided face of an old wine shop to glance at his companion, whom he’d honestly almost forgotten about. The boy was standing on his blind side, after all.

Uchiha Itachi took in the neighborhood with the same level-headed analysis he used to take in anything. Those dark eyes, rimmed with thicker lashes than most, saw much more than even some adults that dwarfed him in years. And there was the slightest hint of hesitation in the pucker of the 11-year-old’s mouth.

“This place doesn’t feel very… uh, Mo-senpai,” Itachi finished, glancing at what looked like a sorry, ragged excuse for a prostitute (if the daring neckline and scarlet skirt slit from hem to hip were any indication) hunched alone like a wilting flower in the mouth of an alleyway they passed by. Either that, or she really had no funds for decent clothing, or knowledge of the sewing craft.

“I don’t know about that…” Kakashi moved to stare straight ahead again as they walked, but his peripheral caught the jerk of the boy’s head. Itachi snapped his gaze back to zero in on his superior, eyes narrowing ever so slightly.

Kakashi held up a placating hand. “Ne, ne, not like that. Look around; this place is falling apart. There are broken things everywhere—porches, signs, windows… people.”  
Itachi seemed to understand quite easily, and his pointed expression softened to one of the deepest compassion, the kind that only a child could feel. Even if he was no ordinary child.

“Ah,” Kakashi said after a short beat, gesturing ahead with a lazy wave, “there it is. Just like the nice drunk said.”

Itachi took the opportunity to roll his eyes, before peering up at the display sign that declared the shop’s name to the world. Kakashi, smirking a little under his mask, followed suit.

_Sasaina Koto._

The sign itself, in contrast to the majority of the neighborhood, stood out with bold, new colors: new paint, red and white, with a more modern style to the design, each sweeping brushstroke in the characters crisp and neat. The storefront itself appeared to have recently gained a facelift as well, old wood probably scraped and repainted, fogged glass replaced with new. On the inside of the small window adorning the front door, a quaint little handpainted sign read ‘Open’ with the hours scrawled beneath that.

With a short bow at the waist and a gesture of his palm, Kakashi offered his young companion a smirk-spoiled grin. “After you.”

Itachi stared back, unflinching and unimpressed. “Are you scared or what?”

“What?” Kakashi said, mildly offended at the thought. “Why would I be—”

“Go first.”

“I offered the pleasure to you.”

“Go on, taichou.” Itachi paused to poke Kakashi on the shoulder, where his arm wasn’t covered by his long, black gloves. “Or I’ll tell Tenzo-senpai how that questionable poster got in his locker three weeks ago.”

Kakashi’s eyebrows rose. There was no need to take it that far!

So, though he sighed and dragged his feet, he trudged for the door, and after shooting a wounded look toward the cruel blackmailer, pushed it open and stepped inside.

And a sweet acoustic melody welcomed him. It wafted through the air within the shop, dancing with the scent of wood shavings and cinnamon chai air freshener, swirling under the ceiling fans, bouncing off the walls and windows, before it spun over Kakashi’s head, easing into his ears and in a very short, startling moment, it seemed to ease the knots of tension from his shoulders to his soul.

Ahh, music…

The thrillingly pleasant notes plucked from the gut strings of an old guitar, braced in the lap of the gangly man that sat on the floor at the base of the cashier’s counter. No one else inhabited the room, save the wares—birds and beasts of mostly the little sort. Fuzzy, round balls of pudge that had a long way to go before they became anything significant—especially considering they had warm houses and spoils to look forward to, not combat and bloodshed.

The man, sandy hair shadowing his eyes, strummed away at the instrument with long, tapered fingers marked with skill beyond his experience. Kakashi knew this to be true only because he’d known the man long enough. This guitar? It was a new hobby.

Mo-senpai apparently had a lot of hobbies.

Behind him, the door let his Uchiha comrade in after him, and swung gently closed, a bell above the doorframe jingling with cheer for a second time. The music didn’t waver; Kakashi doubted this was out of obliviousness. As Team Ro’s medic and sensory nin, Mo had likely sensed them coming before Kakashi’s hand even touched the doorknob.

Despite the quantity of animals within the shop’s main four walls, the stillness of it beyond the music could almost be eerie—but with the melody weaving circles of bliss through the senses of all who heard, there could be nothing negative gleaned from the atmosphere. Surrounded by hues of warm brown and violet, enveloped in song…

Kakashi released a sigh he hadn’t even realized he needed.

Itachi nudged him in the side and, after waiting to be sure Kakashi was attentive, pointed a small finger in Mo’s direction.

“Look close,” the child whispered, careful of the peaceful air around him.

So look closer Kakashi did. It didn’t take him long to pinpoint what he assumed Itachi had been referring to—a tiny bundle of white fur curled up in Mo-senpai’s lap. His tall, wiry frame dwarfed the little thing, making it look frighteningly delicate, but the kitten seemed perfectly at peace, nestled in the folds of Mo’s long loose-knit sweater. It looked so content and comfortable in its place and with life as it was in this very moment. Kakashi almost envied the little thing.

Then he paused to ponder how terribly awkward that statement would’ve sounded out loud. That’s when the music paused.

The sandy-blond head finally rose, and soft violet eyes took in their appearance, and then narrowed with a smile that was both knowing and welcoming.

“Good morning,” Mo greeted, his baritone scarcely detracting from the shop’s warmth, which threatened to flood out the windows and into the street. Kakashi wondered why it hadn’t yet.

“Yo,” the Copy Nin returned, offering his signature eye-wrinkle that was as close as he got to smiling, all things considered.

“Good morning, Mo-san,” Itachi said, with a slight bow.

The kitten on Mo’s lap stirred, arching its tiny back with a straining squeak. It stretched its stick-thin forelegs out, draping them over its keeper’s thigh, just near the edge of the guitar face. Mo allowed himself to be distracted from his guests for a short moment, his smile curving further while he scratched the little creature’s ear.

“We don’t get visitors often,” the ANBU veteran admitted, his gaze lingering on his furry friend.

“Business been slow?” Kakashi asked.

Mo shook his head. “No, no—customers, we get. Visitors? Not so many. It’s not exactly a widely popular sector to set up shop in, but what can you do?” His stroking shifted from the kitten’s ear to its throat, and the baby animal happily stretched out its neck to oblige him.

Kakashi nodded slowly, understanding despite the ever-so-slight emotional lurch. This was not an area popular with decent folk, despite Mo’s own presence here. Pleasant, middle-class patrons were hard enough to come by, much less pleasant, middle-class friends.

Something about that idea tinted the air about them melancholy.

“How long have you been playing?” the Hatake nodded toward the instrument in his senior’s lap.

Mo glanced down, his right hand running its fingers along the curve of the guitar’s body in an almost affectionate manner. Kakashi could hear the rustle of the old worn wood stain under his fingertips, even from across the room.

“About a month and a half, now… It was Ishi-san’s idea at the Eval before last.” Mo plucked one of the strings, letting its open, unhindered note sing until the vibrations faded away. “He knows music. And he knows people. It’s… been good.” The older man’s mouth quirked with another hesitant half-smile.

The white kitten’s head rose up, disturbed by the conversation, and bleary blue eyes blinked slowly whilst attempting to scan the room around them. Sleep clung to its fuzzy head like static.

“Why didn’t you mention this place sooner, hm?” Kakashi allowed himself to tease. “I certainly hope you’re not hiding anything questionable.”

“You’re one to talk, Kakashi-kun,” Mo returned with a dismissive drop of his gaze and a hint of wry amusement to his smile.

Itachi, taking in Kakashi’s withered expression, couldn’t resist a giggle.

_Imagine that. An ANBU giggling. Sounds so strange, doesn’t it?_

“In all seriousness, you simply didn’t ask,” Mo continued, still absently stroking the kitten.

Of course it would be something so simple. Akarui Mo loved people, loved interacting with them on a level that Kakashi himself tended to avoid at all costs. To Kakashi, people were exhausting; to Mo, they were life-giving. But one only got so much interpersonal interaction as an elite member of the village’s highest defense. ANBU didn’t have a lot of opportunities to exercise their social skills. This was why they had shrinks.

Yet somehow despite that, Mo managed to be Team Ro’s most beloved member. They interacted on missions, worked decently well together (most of the time), and Kakashi even felt a sense of loyalty among them which was on the rarer side among ANBU members. But Mo had a personal connection to all of them. And he never had to do much to maintain it. Something about just speaking to him, or just being in his presence… one felt things. And to an ANBU—particularly an ANBU captain with history—feeling things was a luxury.

Even with all this swinging in his favor, Mo didn’t ask for things. Not in the narcissistic ‘I don’t need anything from you’ sort of way; he didn’t see the need. He didn’t force himself or his opinions or his problems on other people, because Heaven forbid he become a burden to others, intentionally or no.

So Kakashi, though he wasn’t one to pry into others’ business, knew all this for one reason, and one reason alone: he asked.

That was the only way Mo-senpai told you anything.

And if one wanted to be his friend, one had to learn things _somehow_. Via avenues that didn’t involve secondhand information and fickle gossips.

If you listened to those, all you learned was that Mo had cut ties with his family and had a reputation as an unlucky pariah. But that could describe most of the men and women operating under the ANBU standard.

_How many of us are seen as nothing more than codenames and numbers in a file?_

It took effort. But when one knew Mo and knew him well, well enough to be called a friend, one felt the ghosting fingers of humanity creeping up one’s spine, resting firmly on one’s shoulder, and uttering the faintest of whispers that none other could hear.

_‘Hello, old friend. It’s been a while.’_

In a sense, Akarui Mo kept the rest of Team Ro on the edge of sanity. Remaining on the edge was an individual choice, but he seemed to be instrumental in keeping them from throwing themselves into the brink one by one.

And so, Hatake Kakashi sought him out time and time again. Because humanity felt good. And his precious people—Obito, Rin, Minato-sensei—would haunt him from beyond the grave if he ever let it slip from his fingers.

Not that they didn’t already.

“Itachi-kun,” Mo said. Kakashi resurfaced from his deep, mental spelunking to realize the other two in the shop must have carried on with a bit of small talk, and now the oldest among them was beckoning the youngest closer. The Uchiha obliged, crossing the deep teal tile to where Mo sat against the counter.

The latter lifted the guitar off his lap just enough so that when Itachi came close, Mo scooped the kitten from his lap and held it up in one large hand. His long fingers further emphasized its minuscule proportions.

“This is Gin,” Mo said with a fond smile. “He’s the last of his litter, so I’ve been keeping him company. It’s rough… the first time you get left behind.”

Kakashi wondered if the veteran even noticed the way his own words hushed as he spoke the last phrase. Kakashi certainly noticed. And he was fairly sure he didn’t like the way sadness sounded in Mo-senpai’s voice. It had a nasty habit of cropping up from time to time.

Itachi, taking the little thing presented to him, let the kitten—which suddenly looked larger in comparison to the child’s own small body—curl up in the cradle of his arms and stared at it for a moment.

“What happened to his tail?” he asked when he finally spoke again.

“Shut in the display door,” Mo admitted with a duck of his head. “It had been busy, and I was in a hurry when I shouldn’t have been… His tail was so small, the veterinarian said it would either heal crooked, or we could remove it completely.”

Peering closer at the child and kitten—they looked so domestic—Kakashi could barely spot what they were referring to. The stub that the white kitten once called a tail.

“The vet told me not to worry—that all white cats get into trouble early on.” Mo gave a short shake of his head.

Itachi frowned. “Why?”

Kakashi stepped forward, hands in his pockets. He gazed down on his youngest team member. “Because white cats are bad luck.”

“I thought that was black cats…”

“It depends on who you talk to.” Mo regathered the guitar into his lap, readying the longer nails of his right hand over the strings. “Anybody can be superstitious of anything, really. The vet even offered euthanasia, should I ever decide to put Gin down for my own safety.” The ANBU veteran shook his head again, and plucked out a few notes on his instrument.

“That sounds…” Itachi wrinkled his nose, glanced between the two men, and then just settled for silence. Kakashi could follow the unspoken end, and knew Mo could as well.

Mo strummed once, twice, and then smiled again. “So I’m keeping him. We misfits have to stick together, don’t we? After all, we all have so much in common.”

Kakashi smirked a little.

Itachi, in the meantime, scratched along little Gin’s scruff, making the kitten purr like a motor. “Will he be a ninneko?”

Mo laughed, and the sound brought back the comfortable atmosphere that had been lost to less pleasant topics. The strumming of the guitar began to form a chord progression. “No, no—that’s not for him. But ‘regular old pet’ isn’t so bad, is it?”

Itachi wrinkled his nose a little. “Well… I suppose not.”

The two men laughed, the boy smiled, the kitten purred, and the music rose again and carried the time away until two hours had passed. Two hours of wholesome conversation, meeting Mo’s family of critters, and even a bit more light-hearted teasing. It was a rare respite from the darkness that they day-to-day dwelled in, and a welcome distraction it was. Despite the rough neighborhood, it had been a long time since Kakashi felt such a sense of ease.

There were no enemies here. That fact was surely evident, if not a hint difficult to accept.

Noon came before any of them realized, and once again, the strumming of the guitar came to a halt. Mo, now sitting atop the cashier’s counter after their brief tour around the shop, looped the guitar strap over his head, and removed the instrument from his person entirely.

“It’s about time for lunch,” the man said, sliding off the counter. He left his guitar behind, and rubbed the back of his neck. “How about my treat?”

“I’m game,” said Kakashi, liking the sound of this. Itachi, however, planted his little hands—long since vacant of kitten—on his hips and gave the Copy Nin a pointed look. Kakashi stared at him, wondering for only a short moment what that look could possibly be for. The second that ‘social courtesy’ clicked in his mind, Itachi sighed and turned to their senior operative.

“What taichou means is, we’d hate to impose,” the child said amicably, giving Mo-senpai the opportunity to retract his statement should he so desire.

Mo looked on with amusement glittering under his blond lashes. “Ne, I offered, didn’t I?”

“See?” Kakashi raised a hand in a displaying gesture, giving Itachi a lazy excuse for a pointed glance right back.

The Uchiha ignored him, instead offering Mo a smile. “Well, thank you, then.” The smile itself would’ve been thanks enough, for how bright and rare it was.

“Thank you for visiting. It’s nice to feel like someone’s thinking of you. Even a little.” Mo stepped forward, ruffled Itachi’s hair and clapped a hand on Kakashi’s shoulder. “Off we go, then. You two pick where we go; I have no preference.”

The threesome ventured back into the dingy streets one at a time, the bell above the door signaling their exit. They walked down the way shoulder to shoulder, an odd sight no doubt—the Uchiha heir, Cold-blooded Kakashi, and the mysterious Mo, strolling through the village like their camaraderie was the most normal thing in the world.

Before they left the pet shop too far behind, Itachi glanced into an alleyway, and gave pause. The men took a few more steps before they realized this, and stopped to look back.

Kakashi watched as the child stared off to the side, seemingly conflicted if the slight pucker of his brow was anything to go by. “Yo, Itachi—something wrong?”

Itachi didn’t reply for the longest moment, and when he did, his voice had gone quiet. “Mo-senpai… do we have room for one more person at lunch?”

Mo raised his eyebrows, and glanced sidelong at Kakashi, who shrugged. Heck if he knew what the boy was getting at this time.

“I suppose…” Mo nodded a permission-giving, albeit confused, nod.

Itachi nodded back, and took a short detour to the mouth of the alley, and crouched on the ground. Kakashi, curious, looked harder and managed to sift through the alley’s dark shadows to spot the ragged hem of a scarlet skirt, which moved away and out of sight as the Uchiha boy approached.

Undeterred, Itachi took a short breath before speaking. “Uh, e-excuse me, miss, but…” He gave the barest ghost of a smile—the closest he got with strangers.

“Would you like to come have lunch with us?”


	13. Preferences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Itachi and Hokamaru race, with Tenzo as the judge of the final winner. Hoka decides to make things interesting.

Itachi could think of little else that felt as nice as doing something for someone. It usually didn’t matter what it was, be it helping an elderly lady carry groceries, or delivering a mission report when Kakashi-senpai was having a bad day, or buying Sasuke something for no reason and watching him find it, ignorant of who it came from. There was just something so satisfying about giving of oneself, knowing that you were able to make that person’s day just a little bit brighter.

But every now and then—though even Itachi admitted it was a rare thing indeed—he couldn’t help but wonder over the worth of such well-doing. This rare happenstance occurred around a select few people. 

Kakashi-senpai was one of those people. As good as it felt to give the team captain a helping hand once in a while, the satisfaction wore out its welcome rather quickly when the captain in question began treating such acts as commonplace. Like handing Itachi the mission paperwork when Tenzo wasn’t around to pawn it off on, as if it were a sense of duty that drove Itachi to ease that burden rather than one of charity. Just because he had offered a helping hand on occasion did not mean that he had signed himself up to be Kakashi-taichou’s scapegoat. The feeling of being taken for granted was a glaringly obvious and painfully annoying one. And yet, Itachi continued to do his captain the same favors.

Umino Iruka, the young assistant teacher at the Academy, was another one of the few who could strain Itachi’s patience. The older boy, kind and pleasant a person as he was at heart, had a stubborn streak as plain and permanent as the scar on his face. No sooner did one offer charity than was it refused—sometimes so boldly, Itachi had to take a breath and remind himself that it was not out of any personal animosity toward Itachi himself. Iruka never intended any harm toward another’s feelings; he was just as proud as an ancient stone statue, and just as unmoving when he set his mind to something. Some called him a pushover, but not Itachi. Itachi had seen the chuunin put his foot down. ‘Twas a terrifying sight to behold—especially when beheld in response to a simple, well-intended offer of aid or advice. Which for some reason, Itachi kept giving.

And third in this list of vexatious individuals was none other than the bare-headed Hyuga beside whom Itachi currently stood, whilst he watched the former go through a series of uncomfortable-looking stretches. The view of the village far below, under the watchful eyes of four kages’ stony vigil, provided a dramatic backdrop; a wild wind swept up the face of the bluffs and threw dust in milky Byakugan irises, interrupting the stretching and eliciting a violent curse instead.

Every now and again, Itachi wondered if this particular Hyuga didn’t actually belong on the _top_ of the list…

“You sure about this, squirt?” Hokamaru said at length, after rubbing his eyes watery and then finagling his wiry arms into a particularly awkward stretch. “I mean, it takes conditioning to be able to do this sort of thing, to this extent.”

“It’s a jog,” Itachi replied, frowning a little. “It’s not like it’s complicated.”

Hokamaru guffawed in the tail end of his stretch, rolling his shoulders before planting his hands on his hips. His lavender eyes narrowed with something akin to offense. “No—just hard. This is the entire circumference Leaf village we’re talking about. But why should you listen to me? It’s not like I do this every day or anything.” With that, the Hyuga huffed and closed his eyes, raising his head with definitive and sarcastic resignation.

Itachi sighed, resisting the urge to roll his eyes for the umpteenth time in the last twenty minutes or so. This particular shinobi tended to have this effect on people, as far as the young Uchiha had observed.

Even so, Itachi forced the annoyance from his face, and instead offered the older ANBU a pleasant smile - an olive branch, as it were. “Sorry, Hoka-san. I just never thought of a jog as a difficult thing before. You must practice it on a much more disciplined level than I do.”

And that was the truth of it. Given how often he had seen the older teen on his runs, Itachi had no problems admitting Hokamaru’s seniority on that level. 

The Hyuga didn’t seem terribly uncomfortable with it either. The subtle deference seemed to sooth his hackles back down, until he was his casual self again. He even shrugged. “Nah—it’s just a matter of consistency. Regularity, you know?”

“Ooh, two 4+ syllable words in a row,” said a dry voice, which promptly reminded the two ninjas of the third party in their midst. Tenzo’s eyebrows were lax on his forehead, indicating no expression whatsoever save a hint of dryness, as he held up the stopwatch in his hand. “Are you two done? You’ve taken 10 minutes longer than usual with your stretches, Hokamaru; I’d like to get home to my dinner sooner than later.”

Hokamaru snorted, nose wrinkling with wry amusement. “What, your dinner of instant-ramen-for-one?”

Tenzo scowled. “I have a little more culinary t-“

“All right, I’m ready!” Hokamaru interrupted, utterly disregarding Tenzo in favor of offering Itachi a childish grin. “You, Itachi-kun?”

The blatant antagonism made Itachi’s frown return. “I’m ready when Tenzo-senpai is.” He felt the need to reaffirm Tenzo’s importance in the moment, where the Hyuga had neglected it. Such an occurrence was rather common among Team Ro—shrugging Tenzo off, that is—but that didn’t make it any easier to watch.

“He’s ready,” said Hoka, waving a dismissive hand in the wood user’s direction. “If he wasn’t, he wouldn’t be nagging. Get in your starting position, kid; let’s do this. Remember, no chakra.”

Reluctant to leave things as they were but seeing no immediate way to avoid it, Itachi stepped up to the squiggly excuse for a starting line that Hokamaru had carved in the dirt with his heel.

Tenzo, to his credit, did nothing but sigh at his teammate’s antics, before seemingly recovering enough to square his shoulders and step back. He held the watch up, poised and staring at them over the watch face with deliberation.

A beat or two of tense silence followed as Hokamaru set his feet apart, one behind, one slightly ahead, and braced his knees in preparation. Itachi stared at the Hyuga’s feet, then at his own—planted firmly side-by-side and directly beneath him—and almost wondered if there really was more to a simple jog than he initially imagined.

Or maybe it was all in Hokamaru’s mind.

The button clicked. 

“Start,” Tenzo said.

“Loser foots the bill for dango!” Hokamaru crowed as he took off, his long legs easily careening him forward and ahead.

Itachi, not one to be taken off guard, followed quickly—albeit with shorter strides—behind him. “Says who?”

“Says me.” Hokamaru offered a toothy grin. “Last one back to this spot on the monument pays the price for slacking.”

Itachi rolled his eyes again at last. “You can’t just make up rules as you go.”

“Sure I can. I’ve been doing it my whole life! Hasn’t stopped me yet!”

With that, the Hyuga let his steady pace carry him ahead. The gap between them grew wider, pace by pace, until Itachi managed to find a gait that matched Hokamaru’s well enough to halt his loss of ground. Still, he had almost a whole block of space between him and the older shinobi—substantially increasing his chances of paying for a supper that Hokamaru likely wouldn’t eat anyway. Hokamaru just wasn’t an ‘eating out’ sort of person. Itachi knew this through simple observation.

The curve of the bluff arced to the left, and began to decline. Focusing on absorbing shock with his ankles and knees, leaning forward into the wind, Itachi picked up his pace. Perhaps it was better that he treated this like a training exercise rather than a casual jog…

Objective: win.

It took Itachi Uchiha a full three seconds to completely shift his mindset. The best way to approach a challenge was as a challenger, not a teammate. So, he settled back into his shinobi persona—the collected, calculating one that everyone watched him in awe for. The one that matured him beyond his years, and earned him the reputation he had as Konoha’s coldest rising star.

With this perspective, catching up to Hokamaru—who was still treating this as a casual game of endurance—was easy. And seeing how they hadn’t even reached the bottom of the decline yet, meant that Itachi still had a lot of gravity to work in his favor. 

The Hyuga took in his appearance, coming up on his right, with a slight raise of his eyebrows. Itachi imagined that he looked like business, and it was probably good that Hokamaru saw it. Though he didn’t like being seen as nothing but a tool to be used, or a child to be underestimated, Itachi didn’t mind pulling the maturity rank card now and then.

“Ahh, Little Boy’s getting serious, eh?” Hokamaru quipped, smirking in his direction. The needled jibe found its mark, and Itachi scowled.

_Don’t validate it. It is his mistake. Show him why you’re on his team._

Taking a deep breath, the boy schooled his features back into neutrality, and rather than respond, he simply pulled further ahead. He passed his older teammate just as the ground leveled out and their pace took them through a curtain of trees. Wavering boughs interrupted the sun’s warmth, and cast shadows around them, the length and angle of their shadows attesting to the late evening. Itachi used the leveling of his momentum to slingshot himself forward.

“Ahh, so that’s how it is!” Hokamaru laughed jovially, and picked up his own pace, integrating a bit of his own shinobi dash into his run. Itachi sensed the spike of competition, and swallowed a little.

If Hokamaru got too serious, would Itachi really be able to keep up? After all, the Hyuga had been on Team Ro for years, and that wouldn’t be unless it was with good reason.

_Worry about that later, if it happens at all. Focus on yourself._

Hokamaru’s previously set route took them along the outer edge of Konohagakure’s great wall, in a path of cleared ground about as wide as a four-man jounin squad standing shoulder to shoulder. Very little would get in their way in this course, seeing as they would never once enter into the city streets themselves. Pedestrian traffic and oddball buildings were not obstacles to consider.

At least, that’s what Itachi assumed. The pair raced along the wall, keeping neck-and-neck for the most part—Itachi had his moments to surge ahead, only for the Hyuga to match paces and creep up beside him not long after—until they reached the halfway point: the Main Gate.

And it was then that coincidence decided to smile upon the two of them and their silly game, for no sooner had the painted emerald doors come into view, then a group of shinobi came moseying out into the orange glow of evening.

“What a gorgeous sunset!” green-clad Might Gai trumpeted, throwing his arms up with vigor as a great beaming grin split his face. “I tell you, it’s times like this that make me appreciate the vast natural beauty that surrounds us every day—it’s so youthful!”

Behind him, Sarutobi Asuma, Yuhi Kurenai, Shiranui Genma, and Kakashi-taichou himself all looked about ready to keel over in exasperated weariness. 

“Coming through!” Hokamaru blared, loud and clear, before rushing past Gai without bothering to adjust his trajectory. He nearly threw the other ninja off his feet, with how violently Gai flinched backward.

“What the-!?” was the intelligent response the taijutsu specialist managed to stammer.

Itachi took a more graceful route, gathering up and launching himself right over their heads. Midair, he could spot Asuma and Kurenai’s looks of shock, Genma’s of surprise, and Kakashi’s of, well, indifference, save for the ever-so-slight quirk of his mouth under the mask—a smirk. Before the Uchiha’s feet had even touched back to the ground, the Copy Nin had returned to his book, though the smirk remained.

Itachi’s toes hit the dirt, and he was off again, apologizing over his shoulder.

“Sorry! Can’t explain!”

“What are they doing?” his keen ears heard Genma drone. “Wait, don’t tell me; it’s probably your bad influence, Kakashi, Gai.”

Kakashi just chuckled, while Gai flew into a tirade that Itachi didn’t need enhanced hearing to make out.

“A bad influence!? Me!? How dare you insinuate-!”

“The Hyuga started it,” Kakashi interrupted, the smirk still evident in his words, even as Itachi glanced back and could no longer spot the group beyond the wall. “And I’m betting the Uchiha will finish it.”

“Isn’t that the kid they call-”

Itachi didn’t get to hear what Sarutobi Asuma thought people called him. He was running at a full dash, now, and with the distance between them growing so quickly, their voices finally passed out of hearing range. Putting his mind back into gear, the young Uchiha heir threw himself harder into his pace, and came up behind Hokamaru. The latter seemed to be going steady, still at a more casual run than a dash. The run was sloppy, unprofessional, and lacked any and all finesse.

But Itachi supposed finesse wasn’t the goal. Winning was.

“Watch yourself, kid,” Hokamaru called to him as he passed by, warning evident in his tone. “You’ll burn out at that pace!”

Itachi had no concerns over doing such a thing. He’d run farther for longer stints of time with limited chakra on official missions. This would be no different.

On the route went, following the curve of the wall, shielded between stone and tree. Nothing else interrupted them, and at the 3-quarter mark, Itachi looked back to gauge his lead. Hokamaru had fallen numerous lengths behind, and from this distance, it almost looked like his pace had slowed.

Itachi had a solid lead. But why was the Hyuga slowing down?

Surely he couldn’t be so tired yet?

They were shinobi. Endurance was their greatest testament. It was a key part of what made them who they were. Without it, a shinobi could not perform effectively.

So what was the deal?

It wasn’t until they were a mere two miles from their destination that Itachi allowed himself to begin slowing his pace in order to find out the answer. Hokamaru only continued to slow. Itachi had a strange, not-so-good feeling about it. He wasn’t sure why, but something in him had compassion on his fellow ninja—even if it was to turn out there was no need.

“Getting tired, eh?” came Hokamaru’s voice—ragged from heavy breathing. “At this rate, you’ll be paying for a round of dango. Better hoof it, squirt!”

All the patronizing was beginning to grate, but Itachi managed to ignore it for the moment, instead listening to the faltering gait that slowly gained ground on him. He could hear the rattling breaths that wrenched from his teammate’s throat, and more concerned drowned out what was left of the irritation.

He’d known Hokamaru was one of the least durable in Team Ro—this was common knowledge to all 8 members, and they always accounted for the slack. But to get this fatigued over a jaunt?

So, Itachi let himself slow further, and watched as Hokamaru passed him at a jog much slower than he started out with. The Hyuga gave him a smirk in passing, oblivious to the Uchiha’s internal analyzing, and gave a casual wave over his shoulder.

“What did I tell you earlier? Burnout!”

Itachi certainly felt the strain in his calves and thighs, but he could’ve kept his previous pace at least until they reached the finish line, which was in sight at the top of the bluff that sported the Hokage monument. He could make out Tenzo’s form, sitting cross-legged with his chin propped in his hand.

It was so close. But something in Itachi told him that losing to an 11-year-old in a chakra-less race would do more than make the Hyuga irritated. He sensed a deeper level to this, but for the life of him, couldn’t put his finger on what or why. So he just kept his pace slow, and in the next few minutes, watched Hokamaru stagger across his makeshift line. Tenzo clicked the button, and the challenge was officially over.

“Oh gosh…” the Hyuga panted, leaning forward to brace his hands on his knees. The evening sun, dipping to brush against the horizon, made the sheen of sweat on his lean arms glint gold. “Oh, by the Kyuubi, that was rough. Whoo…”

Itachi kept himself steady even as he came upon the finish line himself, crossed it, and trotted to a stop. Indeed, his breaths were hot in his throat, but it only took a few calming gulps to get a handle on himself. The Hyuga wasn’t so lucky.

“You lose. But holy crap, kid,” Hokamaru said, squinting at him—though whether that was out of his suspicion or simply to keep sweat from dripping in his eyes, Itachi couldn’t tell. “You’re… barely out of breath! How even…” The older boy drifted back into panting, saving what oxygen he was managing to get.

He swallowed down a particularly deep gulp of air, and raised his gaze to Itachi once more. “Y-You didn’t use chakra, did you?”

Itachi shook his head, frowning. “No; I wouldn’t cheat.”

Hokamaru nodded with a sarcastic eyeroll thrown in. “Of course not. What was I thinking? You’re just an overachiever.”

Ah, there it was. If you underperformed, you were ridiculed. If you overperformed, you were ridiculed. There was no pleasing people. Such was the twisted way of the world. But there wasn’t anything he could do about that particular can of worms, engrained into human nature as it was, so he just left it alone. 

So what if he had lost? He had finished well, in his own opinion, and he couldn’t let Hokamaru’s grumbling ruin the experience more than it already had. After all, he would’ve liked to relish in the adrenaline high while he had it. So much for that. 

Itachi sighed, further drowning the beat of his own heart in his ears. He was tired, ridiculously so, but not like Hokamaru, and that niggling part of his mind wondered at that—wondered why, and worried. But outwardly, he kept his concern to himself. Hokamaru didn’t like pity, so Itachi wouldn’t spoil his mood further by showing it.

“Whatever the case, I suppose I owe the two of you dango,” said the young Uchiha, managing to offer a weary smile to his comrades.

Tenzo pushed himself up from the ground, dusted off his pants, and slapped the stopwatch into Hokamaru’s hand. “35.17. A whole seven minutes faster than last time.”

Hokamaru dragged in a deep breath. “Oh, yeah, only because this little hellion turned it into a race.”

“ _He_ did?” Tenzo raised an eyebrow, putting his hands on his hips. “I didn’t hear him calling out surprise stakes at the last second.”

“Tch, whatever, twig-brain…”

The older two descended into casual jabs, their version of banter, and Itachi fell into step behind them. He watched as Hokamaru steadily regained his breath, stood tall again, and reassumed his confidence. His unusual fatigue seemed to fade into nothing, evidenced only by the gleam of drying sweat along his neck and arms, and the lingering doubt in Itachi’s mind.

So it was true he was one of those insufferable people, more often than not. His patronizing attitude certainly merited his place on Itachi’s list, and it didn’t look like that would be changing soon.

But as it was with the others who qualified for a place on that same list, Itachi could never really bring himself to retaliate. Retaliating would be graceless, and throwing fire on fire never helped anything. So he took it like an adult, returned mistreatment (unwitting or no) with kindness, and didn’t expect anyone to notice. And they didn’t. In a way, that was all Itachi needed: the knowledge that he had done well in his own eyes, done what he believed was right, regardless of what others thought. 

“Hey, squirt, you collapse back there? You still have to pay for some sweets. Move those stubby legs of yours and get your baby-fat behind over here!”

Itachi rolled his eyes. His patience was certainly well-exercised. That didn’t mean he had to like it all the time.


	14. Right

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Busho Tsuki is certainly not the easiest person to get along with. Tenzo likes to try anyway.

“How often do you just stop and consider that you might be wrong?”

Tenzo didn’t make it a habit of sticking his nose into others’ business. It was rude, and quite frankly, he didn’t want to be known as ‘that guy’. The guy who was always crowding too close, nitpicking at the lives of those he considered friends. Just the idea that he could become that person was enough to make him feel unnecessary guilt. Imagine that—feeling guilt for something he hadn’t even done yet.

_Not as far as I know, anyway…_

But, every so often, something would happen. And he had to say something. Because as much as he didn’t want to be ‘that guy’, he didn’t like seeing people ignorant or suffering either, and that sentiment was always greater than the other.

Now was one of those moments. Kakashi had spent the last ten minutes griping about a certain rising star in Konoha’s Torture and Interrogation. Someone who also happened to be Kakashi’s psychoanalyst, and cared more about the Copy Nin than anyone let on. 

Not that said Copy Nin had the sense to notice. Something in him kept him from understanding why anybody would, dare one say it, worry about him.

“To be honest?” Kakashi laced his fingers together and clasped them behind his head, moseying along through Konoha’s gates without so much as a glance toward the chuunin manning the gatehouse. “Not often.”

Tenzo, after giving Kotetsu and Izumo a short wave, shot his taichou a glare of chastisement. He hadn’t expected an answer quite so… blunt.

But that was just Hatake Kakashi, he supposed…

Kakashi caught his silent scold and looked a little offended himself. At least, that’s how Tenzo interpreted the ever-so-slight wrinkle at the inside corner of the Copy Nin’s visible eye.

“It’s not something I do—er, don’t do…—It’s not intentional.” The offense disappeared from the lazy ninja’s countenance, and he gave a half-hearted shrug. 

“Sometimes, it would be better if it was intentional…” Tenzo released his companion from his glare, and instead directed his attention to the road ahead. The broad road, such a familiar one, that led the way into the depths of the Village Hidden in the Leaves. Home. “At least that would mean you were aware of yourself.”

“Hm…” Kakashi’s eye grew distant, then, and Tenzo found himself wondering (as he often did) where he went. Sometimes, it seemed like Kakashi wanted to say more, but something kept him from it. That something kept him holed up deep in his mind, a place where nobody else could tread.

Or perhaps Tenzo was just overanalyzing. He did do that now and then.

The pair then continued on in silence for a good few minutes. They shuffled up the dusty street, the later afternoon sun warming their backs and stretching their shadows long ahead of them. The suppertime crowds were out and about, visiting shops and bars, restaurants and street venders, and generally ignoring the two simply-dressed shinobi trudging through their midst after an hour of intensive sparring.

Tenzo watched the people in their to-doings, and a small smile crept onto his face. 

He didn’t get out much. Not that he could. ANBU was a very demanding job. It didn’t allow much for mediocre, domestic trivialities. Sometimes he wished he could break from that shell, even drop out of the Black Ops division, but… he didn’t really belong anywhere otherwise.

But he could certainly imagine what it might be like if he did. That could be him, exchanging meaningless but oh-so-happy banter with the friendly-eyed woman behind the flower shop counter, visible through the wide storefront window to the left. Or he could be buying tea and candles for an upcoming event, like the young lady he passed on his right. Or he could’ve been that laughing child that pushed his way between Tenzo and his captain, chasing after a runaway chicken while feathers flew.

Of course, he wasn’t. But he could imagine.

“Ever wondered if you’re in the wrong line of work?” Tenzo found himself saying, watching two other girls join in the chase of the unruly fowl as it continued behind them.

“No,” was Kakashi’s immediate answer, and it was a firm one. Unwavering.

Tenzo glanced at his senpai, and frowned a little. Again, the response was unexpected. And Kakashi seemed to catch his confusion, because the silver-haired man dropped his arms to his sides, and stared ahead with a rare intensity.

“Once you’ve gone as deep into the system as we have, there’s really no getting out.” Kakashi’s flint-grey eye, harder than usual, turned on Tenzo and made him square his shoulders a little. That gaze was entreating him to something. The Copy Nin’s voice dropped low. “You might even leave the Black Ops one day. But Black Ops will never leave you.”

He said it with such conviction, that all at once, Tenzo was awed and saddened at the same time. Awed again by the strength of his captain and senior; saddened by the knowledge that Kakashi spoke from deep-rooted experience. 

After all, everyone on Team Ro knew the trouble Kakashi gave his psychoanalyst every month. They knew about the legendary shinobi’s antisocial behavior, and the way he moved from mission to mission to training to mission again, with little else in between, beyond rereading his trashy books.

Tenzo couldn’t imagine Kakashi leaving ANBU even if he tried. Some things just ground their way under your skin, and made themselves home for the rest of your life.

“I don’t like when you look at me like that,” Kakashi sighed, looking weary and just a bit uncomfortable. Tenzo realized with a jolt that he’d been staring.

“S-Sorry…”

“Meh, you need to stop spacing out like that, Tenzo.” The false smile was back, curving Kakashi’s eye as if he’d never spoken those weighty words just moments before. “Next time, I won’t be here to keep you from running into something.”

Tenzo allowed himself to give the man a playfully pointed look. Not too playful, though, or else he would lose the truth of his words. “I don’t want to hear that from the guy who reads books while he walks.”

The Copy Nin’s smirk only widened.

Their steps finally led them to the road that bent around the Hokage tower like a forking river, one which would take the two men in different directions to their respective homes. The older to his shabby little apartment in a group home in the old neighborhood, the younger back to the barracks hidden under the Hokage tower.

Or at least, that was where Tenzo was planning on going. That is until he gave Kakashi a wave and bid him good evening, turned to continue on his way, and spotted a familiar ebony pixie bob amidst the pedestrians, headed his way. 

With one last glance over his shoulder—Kakashi had already gone on, headed in the opposite direction—Tenzo went ahead and waved. “Hello, Tsuki!”

The woman—best known as Badger among her ANBU peers—trudged along and barely lifted her head in acknowledgement of his greeting. Her ice-blue eyes were dull, as per usual, and her full lips curled in a disdainful pout, as per usual. She wore her usual out-in-public ensemble: standard issue shinobi slacks, shin wrappings, and sandals, and an under armor shirt covered by a loose grey haori tied shut by a cloth belt, hiding away her figure. 

In fact, there was nothing out of the ordinary about her appearance at all—except for the appearance part.

Busho Tsuki rarely came out in public. She claimed it was too much effort, mingling.

So Tenzo understandably gave pause when she halted instead of just passing him by. She stretched out a hand to point toward the Hokage tower, which loomed to Tenzo’s left.

“Why does it have to be orange?” she muttered.

He frowned a little, and followed the direction of her index finger. He couldn’t see anything orange in that general direction—unless one counted the rich gold of the planks that made up the roofing of the tower.

“Why does _what_ have to be orange?” he inquired, looking back at her.

“That,” she reiterated, without much emphasis beyond an insistent shake of her finger. “The thing. The big ugly building. Why must it be orange?” She spoke each and every word in an emotionless drone, as if she didn’t want to put more effort than she needed to into carrying on the conversation. But that was just her thing.

Tenzo looked again. Oh, it _was_ the tower! That’s what she was talking about. While that revelation cleared a few things up, it brought to focus one rather important detail in the wood user’s brain.

“The Hokage tower?” he confirmed, and watched her nod curtly. Then he folded his arms, peering up at the building in question a moment before voicing the aforementioned detail. “I didn’t think it was orange. It always looked like red to me.”

“Tch,” was her response, and dropping her arm, she continued her pitiful little shuffle down the street. “It’s orange.”

“No, I’m… pretty sure it’s red.”

He saw the head shake coming before it actually happened, and knew there’d be no convincing her. But… it wasn’t orange. It just wasn’t. At least, he didn’t think it was. It was a rather bright red, though…

“Maybe we can go with a happy medium and say it’s red-orange,” he offered, catching up to her.

She came to a halt again, and looked up at the tower. Tenzo followed her gaze, and took the moment for himself to appreciate the grandeur of the building that represented everything the Hidden Leaf was. The shinobi village of the Land of Fire, the realm of the Hokage, with the Will of Fire burning in the heart of every ninja who donned the emblem of Konohagakure.

It was enough to make him take a deep breath of the fresh evening air, smell the moisture and summer sun wafting along the slight breeze that whispered through the busy streets. 

_I don’t do this enough. I really do need to get out more._

“It’s orange,” she said, and kept walking.

A sigh escaped Tenzo’s lips, and broke his attention on the pleasantries around him. He followed suit, mentally noting that she was essentially heading back the way he had just come from with Kakashi, but a little detour wouldn’t hurt. He didn’t get to spend much time with the other members of Team Ro, besides Kakashi, outside of missions. 

And aside from that, he got the feeling Tsuki could use a friend.

_Maybe…?_

“Can’t we agree to disagree?” Tenzo asked, matching paces with her.

She thought a moment, then shook her head, wrinkling her nose. “No.” 

He raised his eyebrows. “Why not?”

“To disagree implies discussion of a matter of opinion,” she sighed, like the explanation alone was taking a lot out of her. “This is not an opinion. The building is orange, and it is hideous. Case closed.”

“So… you’re like this all the time, aren’t you?” Tenzo eyed her.

She eyed him right back, not bothering to turn her head to do so. “Yes. Why wouldn’t I be?”

The wood-user shrugged. “I guess I assumed it was a front you put up when you donned your mask.”

Her brow furrowed a little, and she looked away. “I don’t like pretenders.”

“I see…” He honestly should’ve seen that coming, but he had wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt. Every day at the barracks, every mission, she had a cold, calculating aloofness about her—not unlike Kakashi-taichou. The difference came in the naturalness of it. Kakashi was not severe by nature; no, it was a learned trait, one built up as a shield against the horrors of their world, and Tenzo couldn’t blame him. He had his own version of it. But every now and then, Kakashi allowed himself to relax, and Tenzo would glimpse a man beneath who was much more amicable. Lazier, but softer.

Tsuki… Granted, Tenzo didn’t know her as well. But if he was to judge according to what he was seeing now, her attitude didn’t have an off switch.

Either that, or she was just having a really bad day.

“Why are you still following me?” she grumbled, taking another left turn at an intersection. Tenzo followed along, almost absently.

“Well, I don’t have anything better to do,” he answered honestly. “And I thought maybe you’d like some company.”

She actually frowned at that—well… frowned more. “Why?”

“You looked a little lonesome,” he replied.

Her steps halted, and he almost walked right past her. When he realized that she’d dropped out of sight, he stopped himself and glanced back at her. She was studying him hard, head tilted ever so slightly, her mouth parted a sliver as she chewed on her lower lip.

He blinked. Why was she so confused? Her confusion was confusing. “What?”

Another beat of silence passed, and then she just shook her head, schooled her features back to neutrality, and continued walking. 

“You’re so weird,” she mumbled under her breath. He heard her, and pretended he didn’t.

He was used to it, though.

They continued on in silence—silence that Tenzo thought was quite companionable. He didn’t feel the need to keep constant conversation; in fact, he doubted she would’ve found that pleasant. He didn’t pin her as one who enjoyed talking more than she had to, and he could sympathize with that.

“What do you mean… ‘lonesome’?” she asked at length, and she sounded genuinely befuddled.

He looked over at her, and he realized for the first time that she was actually the same height as he was. _Tall woman…_ After all this time, how had he not noticed?

“Um,” he cleared his throat a little. “Just that… you were by yourself. And you didn’t look happy.”

She didn’t say anything to that. Her eyebrows remained low over her long-lashed eyes as she seemed to puzzle through what he’d said. At least, that’s what he guessed she was doing. She seemed to do a lot of that—frowning and thinking.

The street they’d turned down was more crowded than the last, and Tenzo realized they’d entered the restaurant sector, if all the scrumptious smells tickling his nose told him anything. He could smell bread baking, noodles steaming, meat frying, all topped with a rich, melting-pot assortment of seasonings—thyme, ginger, soy, and many others. 

His stomach started grumbling. _Maybe I should’ve gone home to dinner…_

A red ball came bouncing under the feet of several passersby, followed by a little white puppy that was bouncing just about as much in its pursuit, its floppy ears flapping like streamers. It yapped in delight, not paying much attention to where it was going.

Tenzo stopped the ball with his foot, and stooped to pick it up. The puppy came skidding to a stop at his feet, staring up with a rather amusing expression on its canine face—half pout, half ponder.

“What’re you doing?” Tsuki grumbled beside him, and he noticed she’d stopped as well. Why, he couldn’t begin to guess. But at the moment he was going to answer, a youthful voice belted through the crowd.

“Hey, Akamaru!” Following—and belonging to, Tenzo guessed—the voice, came a little boy with a head of scruffy brown hair, sharp eyes with slitted pupils, and a pair of tattoos on his rounded cheeks in the likeness of fangs.

Those markings, plus the puppy, made the deduction not difficult to reach in Tenzo’s mind. This boy was very likely an Inuzuka. A very young one.

The puppy responded immediately, tail wagging and tongue lolling from its tiny mouth, and it yapped a few times before looking up at Tenzo with an adorable puppy-pout that only puppies were capable of.

“No, he didn’t _steal_ it,” said the boy, frowning at his dog. “He just picked it up!”

The puppy barked, a bit more insistent this time, and shot the boy something like a glare. Tenzo couldn’t help a small smile. _Definitely an Inuzuka._

“Oh…” The boy flushed a little, glancing up at the adults from under the ridge of his eyebrows, and then he rubbed the back of his neck. He offered an anxious chuckle. “Right, sorry. I’ll try to listen better next time.”

Tenzo had a very limited knowledge of the Inuzuka clan and how it worked, but he could guess by their ages that these two had not been partners long. He held out the ball to the boy.

“Still getting the hang of understanding him, eh?” he said.

The boy took the proffered ball and nodded. “Yeah… It’s harder than I thought. But we’re playing catch and we’ll have it down soon!” He patted the puppy’s head. “I just hafta remember to think like Akamaru, here.”

“Well, good luck with that.” Tenzo offered a smile, which the boy returned broadly.

“Thanks, mister!” He handed the ball down to Akamaru. “All right, boy, throw it farther this time!” In his hurry to scramble down the street, the boy almost collided with a few passing civilians.

“S’cuse me!” And then he was gone, and the puppy wasn’t far behind.

“Yeah, good luck,” Tsuki snorted. “You’re gonna need it.”

“What makes you say that?” Tenzo tore his gaze from the crowd to his companion.

“He’s brash. And he rushes things. He’s probably one of the class clowns at the Academy.” She sighed, almost in disappointment at her theory.

“You can’t know that for sure,” he said.

She shrugged. “I usually can.”

Tenzo frowned. If that was her philosophy, it was no wonder she lacked social skills…

“And he’s loud,” she finished, beginning to walk again. “Just like this street.”

He couldn’t disagree with that. He wasn’t quite sure how to take her comments at this point, so he just caught up with her again and continued walking. They’d only taken a few steps before Tenzo peered down a side street that branched off to his right. There were fewer people along this way, and it led into a more residential area—mostly apartment complexes. Tenzo paused.

“We could go this way,” he offered with a gesture of his hand. 

Tsuki paused, glancing his way, and then taking in the road he gestured to. She remained quiet for the longest time, and again, he found himself wondering where she’d mentally gone off to.

Was it just something about his team? All the members tended to be spacey now and again?

The woman looked back to him, expression unchanging. “My route doesn’t turn here.”

Tenzo raised his eyebrows. “…You have a route?”

“Yes.”

“And…” He looked between her, the restaurant block, and the residential block. “How often do you take this route of yours?”

“Every day.”

_Every day. Every day, she drags herself out of her apartment and walks around the village… to do what? Complain about things?_

“Have you ever considered trying something different once in a while?” Tenzo asked.

She slowly shook her head. “No…”

He took a deep breath, and then stepped down the side street. “Well, let’s go, then.”

She didn’t follow immediately. Tenzo forced himself not to glance back, and just kept walking. If she didn’t follow, he would just round back and head home, like he originally intended. If she did… well, he’d figure that out if it happened.

He heard her sigh, and then footsteps came after his.

“You’re so weird…”


	15. Why We Do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kakashi just can't understand why anybody would actually do it. You know... care about him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy December everybody! Just as a note, I'm going to try really hard to keep my fics flowing through the holidays, buuuuut there is a chance I'll get overwhelmed and things won't get updated quite as often for a little while. Especially since we're having family come for Christmas for the first time in actual years, so I might be too occupied to get anything written. :V We shall see!
> 
> As always, thanks for reading/subbing/kudos! Couldn't do this without you guys. ♥
> 
> -P.J.

“Suzume… you don’t have to keep following me.” Kakashi tried to sound as earnest as was possible in his current physical state. His voice still sounded hoarse to his own ears, and it was likely due to all the coughing he’d done in the last week, courtesy of a scrap with pneumonia. 

The medics hadn’t thought him well enough to leave, either. He’d barely managed to scrape his way out by the skin of his teeth as it was, and that had taken an unholy amount of sweet-talking on his part. Still, he couldn’t be happier to be out of that antiseptic cesspool. Fresh air never smelled better.

But if he was honest, he could do without the tagalong.

Right now, he wanted to mosey on back to his apartment, lock the front door, and huddle on his sofa with an electric blanket and an Icha Icha film marathon. Alone. 

But Ochimashita Suzume—codename Otter—seemed to have taken it upon himself to play chaperon. Maybe the medics had shanghaied him?

The honey-blond man swallowed a little at having been confronted, and rubbed the back of his neck as was his habit to do when he was nervous. “Right, about that…”

Kakashi sighed. Sometimes, he hated being right. “Who asked?”

Suzume’s eyebrows rose, and he gave an abrupt shake of his head. “Oh, nobody! That’s… that’s not what I meant. I meant that… well, it’s partly my fault all this happened to you. I feel like I aught to do _something_.”

“…Ah.” How nice. Obligation.

Why? Kakashi never asked for anyone’s pity. Mostly because he didn’t really want it. What good did pity do him? The most it ever did was needle out a little more frustration at the fact that he was burdening yet another person with his existence. As if he hadn’t done that enough already.

But of course, other people seemed to be bound by the socially acceptable more than he was—not that that was some grand surprise. People offered pity as a programmed response to another’s pain. Especially if they thought that pain was their fault.

And people entertaining those notions could be notoriously stubborn. So Kakashi couldn’t simply tell him ‘no thanks, please go home’. He didn’t feel like being assertive right now. He doubted his body could handle it.

Instead, he sighed again. “If you must, then.”

With that, he exited the gates that marked the way out of the hospital’s too-picturesque lawn, onto the open street beyond. The grey, overcast sky dulled his shadow under his feet, and hid the time, though he guessed it to be around noon—a good time to hide away at home and do nothing.

Footsteps behind him let him know the other ANBU was following. Kakashi tried not to think about that too much, and simply began walking in the direction of his home—to the south, on the edges of the old district.

“Sorry if I…” Suzume began, entering Kakashi’s peripheral vision on his right. “I-It’s just…”

 _Why try to justify himself?_ He really didn’t want to hear the emotionally charged reasons why Suzume felt obligated to make sure Kakashi was all right. He would’ve preferred it if the other man just stayed silent in the first place, but seeing as that wasn’t about to happen, Kakashi resorted to the next best thing: tuning him out.

It wasn’t that he couldn’t appreciate the idea in the underused, out-of-practice emotional part of his mind. He saw the sense in the concept, knew it was human instinct—in good people, at least—to react like this. That didn’t mean he knew what to do about it. He didn’t like dealing with emotional people. Half the time, reason went right over their heads.

What good did obligatory guilt do anyone? Guilt for no reason, why would anybody take that burden upon themselves?

Kakashi knew that some of those who knew his history thought of him the same way. Tenzo in particular, though he knew no specifics, had unfortunately picked up on the veins of guilt that plagued certain bygone conversations. He was always more observant than he let on. And numerous times, he had tried to convince Kakashi that his blame was needless.

But that was a different case altogether.

Guilt was necessary when it was justified.

But Suzume, he had done precisely what Kakashi asked of him. It had been a choice between Itachi’s life and his, and Kakashi had acted fully aware of that. He’d gone out in a desperate attempt to find fresh water in the midst of a blizzard, and made a ridiculous mistake in the process (the result was his latest stint in the hospital, recovering from chakra exhaustion, hypothermia and the previously mentioned pneumonia). When the allotted time had passed, Suzume then acted on his orders, as he should have. There was no reason to blame himself. Why feel guilty?

If only it was so easy for others to understand.

Such was the price of Kakashi’s natural disposition—detached and rational. It was so very easy to assume everyone else would be just as reasonably intelligent. 

Why weren’t they? In the grand scheme of things, people would be so much better off if they stopped getting so personally invested in things that didn’t merit the investment. Things like being offended, or social conformity, or emotional risk-taking. He would much rather save his effort for something that he knew mattered in the long run. This was why he served in the ANBU, so long after his mentor and reason for joining was dead and gone.

He would not live for very long. But the village would. 

All in all, he wasn’t worth Suzume’s concern. The other man surely had better things to worry about. Why would he hang around?

“STOP THAT KID!” screeched a masculine voice from behind him. Kakashi’s feet came to a halt of their own accord; he hadn’t really wanted to stop, but his instinct had jumped at the scream. It bid him to freeze in place, minimizing the chances of a potential threat catching sight of him before he could spot it. Not that there was always a potential threat prowling around every time some random person screamed, but it was something the Copy Nin couldn’t really help at this point. Loud noises did that to him.

His gaze skimmed over his companion (Suzume hadn’t gotten the hint yet, apparently) as he glanced over his shoulder, toward the ruckus that was coming up the street. He saw now that there were a few more people around. Not many, but enough to let Kakashi know that they must’ve been passing near one of the restaurant sectors. Why else would there be such a crowd out and about on such a day, unless it was the time during which food became more important than the weather?

Between the wandering pedestrians darted a little blond blur, nothing more than a mop of spiky hair, shorts, and a green lump of something or other atop his head. He weaved and ducked between the legs of a few unfortunate souls, before continuing his beeline toward the two ANBU nins’ end of the street.

“Ha ha!” the little boy snickered, and Kakashi saw him wave something in the air over his shoulder, without pausing in his escape. “Catch me if you can, stingy Baka-san!”

Kakashi followed the path with his gaze, down the block, to the pursuer, from whom he assumed the previous shout had come from. A man with startlingly red hair long enough to reach the middle of his back, and furious eyes an even brighter shade of scarlet, pushed his way past a group of chatting chuunin. 

Uzumaki Cho. Or just “Red.” Kakashi recognized him from T&I, though he didn’t know the man well. Most of what he did know, he had heard from Suzume, usually for at least a week after the monthly evals. 

Red ignored the chuunins’ shouts of protest in favor of keeping his focus zeroed in on his target: the brat. His gaze met Kakashi’s, and the redhead pointed to emphasize that aforementioned target.

“STOP HIM!” he reiterated.

Kakashi let a bit of his instinct loose in order to scan the street for where the blur had gone in the last few moments. It took three seconds to do so. 

It only took two for a cat to fly in his face.

Its appearance was startling enough, however less so than the realization that it was a _cat_. Flying. Hissing. Claws. 

_The little brat just threw a cat at me._

Kakashi ducked, low enough that he knew he wouldn’t just be trading a face full of cat scratches for a back full instead. The cat sailed over him, and the blond blur sailed past him. The brat wove his way to the end of the street, skidded to pivot on his heel, and finally darted down an alleyway. Suzume stood there, staring, first at Kakashi, then at the blur, then at the enraged counselor approaching.

“What the h***!?” Red blurted, hesitating beside them.

Kakashi straightened up again, and gave the man an unimpressed appraising look. He boasted a Leaf flak jacket—though Kakashi wasn’t ‘in the know’ enough to say whether he was a chuunin or a jounin. The thing he could say with certainty, though, was that that uniform had not seen close combat. The thing was rather immaculate for a ninja vest. He surmised that Uzumaki Red had not seen field action for a good while.

Which might explain how ruffled the man’s feathers were over a mere brat.

“What part of ‘stop him’ did you not get?” Red seemed to be appraising Kakashi in a similar fashion, and though the taller man’s lip curled, Kakashi doubted he’d really picked up much. What was there to see? 

“Uzumaki-san,” Suzume greeted, still a little lost, if the blank expression on his face was anything to go by.

“You’re f***in’ _Black Ops_ for crying out loud,” Red went on as if his regular client hadn’t spoken at all, lowering his voice over the syllables detailing their highly-covert occupation. Kakashi concluded he was a hot-head, but at least not stupid enough to blow their cover right here and now. “How hard is it to keep a pre-genin from getting past you?”

“I thought you would know,” Kakashi replied, brushing some imaginary dust off his own grey jacket, “considering you were chasing after him in the first place.”

The counselor’s countenance darkened and he shoved his way past with a stifled snarl. “Whatever. If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a thief to catch.” He started jogging again.

“A thief?” Kakashi raised an eyebrow, and glanced at Suzume, who shrugged before watching Red go.

“What did he steal?” the other ANBU operative called out. Red didn’t even bother to glance back when he answered. 

“My hitai-ate!” 

Kakashi glanced at Suzume again. Suzume glanced back. 

The latter reacted first. “You just got out of the hospital, taichou.” It wasn’t charged with any subtle emotion beyond a hint of uncertain concern, and confusion.

Kakashi shrugged. “That shouldn’t be an issue.”

Suzume blinked at him. “…Why’s that?”

“Because the brat just went down a dead end.”

“…Oh.”

Kakashi turned on his heel and headed for the alley the pursued and pursuer had vanished into. His apartment still awaited him, with his warm bed and fresh clothes and eggplant and his books. The thought had lost none of its appeal. But he also had a hunch as to who this little blond brat was. 

Who else could it be, after all?

He hadn’t kept close tabs on Minato’s legacy. He didn’t care for kids, and he wasn’t the nurturing type. Truer still, it was likely better for the boy if he didn’t get involved with the infamous Sharingan Kakashi at all—the man that bloodshed seemed to follow like a curse. Kakashi had no plans to change his current choice of career any time soon. ANBU was his life. And it was not one well shared with domestic responsibilities. Though sometimes he wondered if Minato-sensei would’ve wanted it otherwise…

But Kakashi hadn’t forgotten about the brat. Every now and then, the Third would discreetly share something or other about him. Mostly, such news consisted of the young hellion’s most recent antics. 

Part of his brain always asked why, but that wasn’t a hard question to answer. Kakashi had seen how the villagers turned away from him. He experienced much of the same treatment. He was a cold-blooded killer, after all. His reputation often preceded him.

That was another thing his rationality questioned. Why blame a soldier for killing? Wasn’t that a part of their job? And didn’t they kill so that others—like the villagers; civilians, innocents—didn’t have to? So that they would be safe?

That was why Kakashi kept risking his life over and over again. Why he risked another traumatic visit to the hospital after a mission. Why he wore his mask in the first place, and why he would rather see his team return home before he did. 

Did Namikaze—or, Uzumaki—Naruto even understand that concept?

He supposed it wasn’t his place to know. He hadn’t expressed an interest in the boy’s grooming, and still didn’t. He was entirely Sandaime-sama’s responsibility—that, and Umino Iruka’s. Though it seemed a begrudging responsibility on the latter’s part. Something about Umino’s parents perishing in the Nine-Tails Attack, same as Minato-sensei and Kushina. 

But could one really blame the boy for something entirely out of his control?

Actually, that was why, now that Kakashi thought about it… because Naruto couldn’t control the thing. And that made him a potential threat.

Potential? Did that make him guilty? Why were the two words so often synonymous in peoples’ minds? Why did people act and react the way they did? It was all so troublesome.

_Too much emotion. Not enough logic. Meh._

He realized they’d almost reached the end of the alley. At the wall that blocked off the end, smoke puffed in a small cloud, and suddenly, there was a woman. A woman that made Red choke on nothing, Suzume shriek a little, and Kakashi felt blood rush to his face. He sighed, squeezing his eyes shut, but that was very hard to unsee.

“You little-!” Red lunged blindly for the woman’s arm, ignoring the falsetto gushing, and instead cuffed her hard over the head. More smoke, and Naruto writhed in his clutches instead.

“OW!” the mouthy little squirt yowled, rubbing his head and struggling against the man’s hold. “That hurt, ya know!”

“Yeah!” Red glared at the twerp. “It was supposed to. Now give it back, you little s***.”

Naruto pursed his lips, and looked away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t push it! I’ll search you if I have to!”

At this, the boy smirked. “I’ll use my jutsu again, if you want!”

Red snarled. “You’re real sick, you know that? Who taught you all this? What’s more, what gives? Why are you going around stealing headbands anyway?”

Kakashi eyed the boy, trying to figure out where Naruto stashed the T&I member’s hitai-ate, but it didn’t take him long to figure he probably didn’t want to know.

“I just wanted to try it on, and you wouldn’t let me, you stingy miser!” Naruto grouched.

Kakashi glanced to Suzume. The latter didn’t seem interested in stepping in at all, and instead looked quite uncomfortable. He likely had no clue how to deal with the situation. Kakashi didn’t either, but Red would reach an impasse soon. There was only so far brute force could go before you started crossing lines that not everyone would be happy with.

“That doesn’t mean you steal it!” Red glared daggers at the brat.

Kakashi stepped forward, half of his mind wondering why he should even bother. “Meh, calm down, Red,” he sighed. “He’s just a stupid brat who wants to feel strong, but has no idea what it really means to be a shinobi.”

“EH?” Naruto reacted with a loud mix of anger and confusion, both emotions raw and genuine on his round little face. “Hey old man, what gives!?”

 _Old man..?_ Kakashi’s Sharingan eye twitched, but he let it go. “You heard me. If you really knew what it meant to be a ninja, you wouldn’t be stealing headbands from other ninja in the first place.”

Red looked rather pleased with the back-up, while Naruto seemed at a loss for words. 

Seeing as the child had yet to comprehend Kakashi’s point, the Copy Nin sighed and went on. “These hitai-ate symbolize our status as shinobi of the Leaf. They’re our standard, our way of demonstrating our pride in our village, and our oath to protect it. Stealing one of these is tantamount to stealing a part of our identity.” 

Naruto stared at him long and hard, and finally tilted his head. “What is tan… tanta…?”

Kakashi sighed again.

“It means, stealing is rude, and it’s wrong, and it makes you less of a ninja and more of a bug.” With a simple surge of chakra, Kakashi used the flicker technique to move from his place on the pavement, to the spot just behind the boy, between him and the wall. He then leaned forward to whisper in the kid’s ear. “And obnoxious bugs get squashed.”

He could practically see the shiver that ran up Naruto’s spine, the sweat that broke out on the child’s brow along with a shrill squeal from his throat. 

Kakashi stood back again and sighed. Why was he sighing so much? He’d get light-headed at this rate. _Come to think of it… maybe I should’ve taken things a bit slower considering the circumstances…_

“We shinobi don our hitai-ate every day to keep brats like you safe,” Kakashi finished, ignoring the sudden wave of wooziness spurred most likely from the shunshin he’d just performed. “We secure your comfort by making ourselves uncomfortable. The least you could do is return the favor and be a little more respectful. You could start by giving the man his headband back.”

In a harried rush, Naruto lifted the tail of his shirt and, as Kakashi expected, removed the headband from where he’d tucked it in his waistband at his hip. He practically shoved it into Red’s waiting hands.

“There, you’ve got it back! Lemme go!” the boy whined, but the redhead had already let go. Naruto needed no more incentive, and broke away at a dash, toward the mouth of the alley. He barreled past an awkwardly anxious Suzume, who hurried to step out of his path and watch him go.

At the alley’s entrance, Naruto paused and glanced back. “I’ll be a real shinobi one day, just you wait! I’ll be Hokage, and I’ll have you all thrown in jail for being so creepy! Believe it!” That said, the brat sprinted off.

And that was that. Kakashi finally allowed his hand to come up to rub his forehead, which had begun to throb. He hadn’t done that much; just walk and talk. Stupid, frail human bodies…

“For the record, I just painted ninjas up to be strong, noble individuals who have the strength and will to protect this village.” He cast the redhead to his left a dry look. “And yet you’re the ninja he somehow managed to steal the hitai-ate from.”

“Hey, I was eating!” Red blurted, scowling. “I didn’t expect him to snatch it right off my f***ing head!”

“Obviously.”

It took a quiet, seething breath and a short pause before Red attempted to speak again. When he did, his eyes were still sharp with offense, but he’d thankfully lowered his voice. 

“Thanks… for that,” Red said, begrudgingly amicable now that his problem had at least been solved. “It wouldn’t have been a problem, except… For some reason, kids don’t find me very intimidating.”

“When in doubt, creep them out,” Kakashi grumbled, mind already drifting back to his waiting apartment. Maybe he had some leftover miso soup in the freezer; that’d be nice…

“Uh…” Suzume watched Kakashi closely, seemed to hesitate a number of times in a short second, before stepping forward toward them. “Excuse us, Uzumaki-san. The captain needs to get home. He’s had a long day, I think…”

Red, bless him for a brief moment of perception, made no move to hinder them. He nodded, almost understandingly, and stepped aside. “Sure thing.” 

While he busied himself with tying his hitai-ate back around his head, Kakashi followed Suzume’s lead and headed out of the alley. Ah, home sounded so nice right now…

Except…

There was still that problem.

“You don’t have to follow me all the way there,” Kakashi muttered, squinting at the light that filtered through the cloud cover, suddenly far too bright as they continued on their way.

“I guess not…” Suzume twiddle his thumbs, avoiding eye contact. Kakashi wondered how he managed not to run into things, always staring at his feet like that. 

“But if you’ll allow me, taichou,” he continued, straightening up ever-so-slightly. The change in stance was a rare one, but Kakashi knew what it meant. Suzume did that when he received a mission. “I’d like to escort you home, if only to see you safely there. To be sure you’re all right.”

He seemed to be trying very hard to keep the soldier facade up, Kakashi could see. It was almost comical. Suzume was the least assertive person the Copy Ninja knew, so to see him try to be so made him want to snigger. Instead, though, his headache intensified and his curiosity governed the next phrase to slip off his tongue. 

“Why?”

At this, Suzume’s eyebrows rose, and his facade broke. He went back to fiddling with his own fingers, shuffling along down the street at Kakashi’s side. “Uh… Well, because you’re my captain. Does there have to be another reason?”

Kakashi stared.

_Just… because?_

Suzume coughed a little. “It’s like you were telling that kid… except when we put on the masks, we’re not just Leaf shinobi. We’re ANBU. We’re Team Ro. And you’re our captain. And that sentiment stays the same even after we take the masks off again…”

There were crossed wires somewhere in Kakashi’s brain, or something. Whatever the reason, his mind refused to fathom the sense in what Suzume was telling him. He—and all of Team Ro, if Suzume’s words were to be taken seriously—would go out of their way for him just because he was their captain?

Yes, he preached teamwork almost religiously.

Yes, he valued his team more than was likely appropriate for an ANBU.

But that was on the field. That was in high-pressure situations, matters of life or death. That was where his conviction was, thanks to an obnoxious Uchiha brat from years long past.

Why would it apply even on a domestic level, when they had nothing to gain from it?

_Just… because they are? Because I am? Because it does?_


End file.
